At my husband’s funeral, I spotted “my girls.” Once inseparable, at that moment, we seemed to be strangers in our golden years. As we reunited over regrets and lost time, one reckless idea left us questioning everything.
The funeral was quiet. Just a few people stood by, exchanging whispers. I stood apart, clutching my husband’s old hat. It was all I had left of him, of us. The murmurs of condolences drifted past me, barely registering.
“You should come inside,” someone whispered, but I didn’t move.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My mind replayed all the plans we’d postponed. Our last trip to the ocean, the dreams we shelved for later. Later he was gone.
My voice caught in my throat as I spotted a familiar figure at the edge of the group. She looked unsure, holding her handbag tightly, like a shield. Before I could gather myself, another familiar face appeared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Lorna?” I whispered, almost laughing in disbelief.
She stood confidently, her bright scarf and glasses a splash of life against the somber crowd. It was like seeing a ghost of my youth, but her eyes held the weight of years gone by.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
