Right after our daughter’s funeral, my husband insisted on quickly throwing out all her things from the kids’ room, but while cleaning, I found her note…
The dirt thudded dully against the coffin lid. Emily flinched, as if each impact struck her heart. Her legs buckled; if not for Sarah, her school friend, gripping her elbow tightly, she would have collapsed right there on the rain-soaked cemetery ground.
«Hold on, Emily, hold on,» Sarah whispered, but the words came through as if muffled by cotton. The world around her lost its sharpness. Blurred silhouettes in black, bowed heads, hushed voices—only the coffin with Olivia’s body remained agonizingly real.
Eighteen years old. Just eighteen. So many plans, so many hopes, all cut short on the night interstate.
Emily lifted her eyes, trying to find her husband. Michael stood aside, a bit away from the main group. Straight back, compressed lips, impassive face.
In twenty years of marriage, she had never learned to understand what lay behind that mask of restraint, especially in recent years when something intangible had changed between them.
«Please accept our condolences,» someone said, touching her shoulder. Emily nodded, not distinguishing faces.
What difference did it make who spoke those empty, meaningless words? Olivia was gone. Her girl, her only child, her continuation in this world.
The ceremony was ending; people began to disperse, casting sympathetic glances at her.
Michael finally approached, touching her elbow. «It’s time for us to go,» he said quietly, «the rain is getting heavier.»
Emily didn’t move from the spot.
Leave Olivia here, alone, in the damp earth? How could she walk away?
«Emily,» steel notes appeared in her husband’s voice, «we can’t change anything by staying here.»
Sarah hugged her shoulders. «I’ll walk you to the car. Come on, Em, you need to rest.»
In the car, Emily sat with her forehead pressed against the cold glass. Raindrops streamed down the window, blurring the world outside.
Michael drove confidently, as always. His profile seemed carved from stone. Not a single muscle twitched.
«I need to stop at one place,» he suddenly said, turning off the usual route.
«Where?» Emily struggled to focus her gaze.
«To the local charity donation center. I want to check their operating hours.»
Emily looked at her husband incomprehensibly. «Why?»..
