No prompt today, just waking the dead.
Julie could hardly manage anything louder than a squeak during the service. Besides her cracked ribs, her concussion loosened her grasp on coherence. Her dusty pew shuddered as waves of realization broke over Judy. Her body quivered and reeled in silent sobs. Where was she again? Faces floating on black masses drifted this way and that occasionally wrapping her up.
“We’re so sorry for your loss Jules. If there’s anything we can don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Gosh I can’t imagine how you must be feeling Julie. So sorry for your loss.”
Julie could barely feel them. As quickly as they approached they left again to gawk and stare at Henry’s body. Her Henry. She had cried all she could that she could the night before. Her head pounded with the pulse of the lights above head. Julie cast her eyes down and drifted over to the viewing area.
There he was. Maybe a bit more dressed up than usual. Definitely more peaceful.
“Hey Julie,” he said with that puppy dog look he always gave her when he begged her for a long hunting weekend trip.
“Asshole.” She spat.
“Jules listen.” Henry began.
“No, you listen,” she cut him off and began to shake with rage. “After all the shit you pulled.”
“It was only a few drinks Jules.” His eyes began to well and the faint smell of embalming fluid wafted up. “I wasn’t even tipsy.” Julie slapped him.
“Julie,” her father was behind her now, his arms wrapped around hers. “What are you doing?”
“You’re so fucking selfish.” Julie said kicking the casket.
“C’mon let’s go,” her father let go of her arms to put his right around her shoulders. Forcefully yet gently he led her to the priest’s office.
“I was three weeks late y’know,” Julie hollered back at the corpse. “But it was only a few drinks right.”
Henry looked as if his heart had been torn out. He said his final goodbyes and laid down one last time.