May 13, 2010
I stood in my bedroom, staring blankly at my pile of clothes. What are you supposed to wear to a funeral? Black? Gray? Just something nice? I'm not even sure what fits anymore.
I never met him. The man who died. None of us had. His father is the dean of Kurt's dental school. This son was in the Navy. Intelligence. They may never know who killed him, or why.
All I know for sure is that he was 30. Much too young to die.
I picked up a gray skirt, and held it in front of me. I looked into the mirror, but I couldn't focus very well through my tears.
I thought about the last time I stood over a pile of clothes, wondering what to wear to a funeral.
It was April 6th, 2004.
And she was only 44.