By the time I got inside, she had already planned the whole thing — chose the casket, the hymns, and the white floral arrangements he would’ve hated.
“I wasn’t planning on staying long.”
“It was easier this way,” she said, like she was talking about a dentist appointment. “I made all the arrangements yesterday.”
I was still holding my suitcase when she handed me a funeral program with his name on it.
At the wake, Cheryl floated from guest to guest, wineglass in hand, whispering gracious thank-you message.
I sat alone in a folding chair in the corner, clutching my dad’s old wristwatch — the one with the cracked face he wore like armor.
“I made all the arrangements yesterday.”
When people offered their condolences, I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.
The only thing I wanted to tell them was, He was the best part of me.
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