Chapter 4

Stephen was there to plan his mother’s funeral. We all took a seat in one of the rooms, and as my father began his round of routine questions, I took on the responsibility of a more personal arrangement—undressing him with my eyes. That night my imagination was working overtime, wondering what I would find under the tailored three-piece suit. And if the games my mind were playing wasn’t enough, I began to believe that Stephan was doing the same to me.

My father spent the next hour taking down his mother’s information, discussing how large a service he wanted, and of course what type. He pulled out several brochures to introduce Stephen to the range and styles of the caskets we offered. After some deliberation, Stephen picked out one of the basic models.

“My mother hated to be fussed over,” he confessed. “Less was more in her world.”