Part one - Bedtime story
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“Because it’s custom,” she said. She wore black, I wore black. “Everyone wears black at funerals. Black is death’s favorite color, so we wear it as a sign of respect.”
Grandpa slept. The priest told him a bedtime story. The priest wore black, grandpa wore black.
Part two - Cross examination
She wore white, I wore black. “It’s to keep me safe,” she said. “The doctors give us white to wear so we stay invisible to death.”
My mother was buried in her wedding gown.
Part three - Fairy tale
“It’s like a play,” she whispered. She wore white, I wore black. “The women play life, the men play death. The two in the middle join together, like life and death at the beginning of time.” She used to take drugs.
Part four - Eulogy
She slept in white.
“She told me once that black is death’s favorite color.” That’s all I said. I sat back down. I wore orange.
A woman behind me whispered.