evening, the boutique coordinator held up Clara’s original blue dress.
“Would you like us to reorder this in your correct size?”
I looked at it once.
Then shook my head.
“No, thank you.”
And I handed it back myself.
Toward the end of the evening, one of the grandchildren showed Clara a candid photograph taken during all the chaos.
Dave’s tie was crooked.
Someone in the background was laughing with their mouth wide open.
Another relative wasn’t looking at the camera.
And I was holding a forkful of cake.
Nothing
