I sat in the funeral home, surrounded by the somber faces of the funeral directors and the sterile smell of flowers. Stan sat beside me, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.
We were planning our mother's funeral.
It felt surreal, like I was living in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. Just a few days ago, I was sitting in the hospital, holding my mother's hand and praying for a miracle. Now, I was planning her funeral.
Stan and I, both decided not to waste time to put her to rest.
Angela recommended the services of these people.
She invited us to stay at her home till whenever.
The funeral director, a kind-faced woman with a gentle smile, handed me a catalog of caskets. "We have a variety of options to choose from," she said.
"Which one do you think your mother would hav
