The Goodbye Room

There we were. All in a room. Holding ourselves, or a bottle of water,a hand. Just holding something and holding it a little to tightly.

A sort of glazed shield is on all of our faces.  The eyes,they are the worst. They come with a smile that takes more work than standing.

It’s always a chilly room here. The air feels frozen.

Just us cousins that’s all I see looking out in the room. Grandparents, aunt’s and uncles,mom and dads. We have said goodbye to all of them here in this room.

After a clip of my hair is cut and taken. I then and walk the hallway, past all the show rooms. Ours it the first on the right. The doors are still open a the music still playing. I glance in but only for a moment. My breath catches, making an ‘O’ with my lips I blow that breath out empty.

Something I’ve noticed a lot of us do when stressed in pain. Just blow it out. Coping mechanism.

My fiance is waiting by a glass table near the exit. The glass top is held, by bronze angels. It’s quiet the stunning piece. A larger than life bouquet, sits perfectly in the center. Not one mark on its glass top. I slide my fingers along it as I passed the table. Smooth and cool as water.

“Tables been here least 16 years”, is what I said, looking up to him as he collected me to leave.

Thinking to myself ,’Thats when we buried my daddy’.

I nod politely to the staff as we exit. They know me and it them.

 

 

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