Jeannie - The Funeral

Those same words passed through my mind as I stood in the door of the funeral home. There was her name on the small placard directing people to the correct room and not to that of the old man who had once owned an illegal brothel. That wouldn’t do to show up in that room. I nearly laughed out loud when I realized who was in the room next to Mom. That name had come a few times out of Leslie’s lips when he had died. Definitely not Mom’s funeral parlor.

Leslie had appointed herself the official greeter. A bright red dress hugged her figure tightly and emphasized her stick-like figure. Her hair was remarkedly like Mom’s. Same style. Same cut. She just wasn’t quite as grey yet but she was getting there fast. She stood at the entrance to the room with a wide smile even for us. My steps faltered. Where was the evil glare? Where was the hate?

“Matt! Children!” She rushed to hug them all.