Chapter 3“Oh, Bill,” Mrs. Hankins said to her husband after I led her into the visitation room where he was laid out in a wooden casket made by the Mennonites. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” I agreed.
“All the times we’ve been here for other funerals…now it’s our turn.”
“Is your daughter coming?”
“Sharla will be here soon. She was getting the kids ready. They’re going to miss their pawpaw.”
“I’m sure they will,” I said. “But it’s going to work out. You’ll see. You’ll be fine.”
A small, austere looking woman entered the parlor. My mother.
“He looks so good,” Mama said. She came up to Mrs. Hankins and took hold of her arm in an affectionate sort of way. “Ruth, you holding up?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “All the times we’ve been here…I never thought…it never occurred to me…”
