a town called E.

By Eej

What I want to remember:
the husband's loving hands tenderly straightening the cloth on the casket
the trumpet
the Beloved holding my hand the whole time
the man who brought a polka to the cemetery and played it
watching the husband and a friend dancing a few steps to it
the hugs from friends we don't see often enough
sitting outside in the sun afterwards with my backyard buddies

What I don't want to remember:
how it all made me cry so hard and so without any control that I almost had to leave the service.


ps. I also don't want to remember the pain I went to sleep and woke up with. Something else to put on the list of things that need checking out when our insurance kicks in.

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