“Thanks.” I don’t get up. I just turn and rest my back against the chest at the foot end of the bed.
“Be careful. It’s scalding.”
I take the cup and a cautious sip.
“Mmm. It’s good. Fruity.”
“Mandarin tangerine.” Aunt Ruthie takes a seat next to me and we sip our tea in silence.
I wonder how they ship him home. In a box? Was there, I swallow hard, enough of him to send home? God.
“How is this going to work?” I ask.
“Which part?”
“The funeral. Obviously if there was a bomb involved…”
“Closed casket. There will be a military burial even though it’s here on the farm.”
I look at her. “How did you get them to agree to that so quickly?”
“Some men who’ve worked with your father insisted.”
“I don’t want to hear the gunfire,” I admit.
“It’s part of the military burial,” Aunt Ruthie informs me.
I just sigh.
“Your Aunt Leah was thinking of giving the eulogy.”
At this, I sit up straight, nearly spilling my tea. “No. She doesn’t know him, why would she want to do that? For appearances? To hell with that.”
“Calm down, Jillie. If you don’t want her to, she won’t. We’ll work it out.”
“I—I think I should do it. There are things I want people to know about my dad, things I need to say.”
“Okay.” If Aunt Ruthie is shocked, she doesn’t show it.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”
“I can give you something if you like.”
I nod. “Yeah. I just need to get through this week. I think it’ll be easier when the burial is over.”
Aunt Ruthie’s look is skeptical as she rises to stand. “I’ll get your sedative.”
It’s never going to get easier. But, maybe, eventually the pain will be tolerable. Maybe.
