It's Saturday morning. Brenley is contemplating her outfit for the day with much enthusiasm. I remind her that she'll have to wear a dress because we'll be going to my aunt Kathy's memorial/funeral service. I say to her, "You remember Kathy, don't you? She was in a wheelchair and talked a bit funny? She had MS just like Papa."
"No, I don't remember her."
"Really?"
"Well, maybe once I see her face I'll remember then..."
"You won't see her face. It's not a wake."
"Yes, I will! You know how there's the little opening in the box by their head?"
"Oh. No. She's not going to be in a casket like that. She was cremated. She's going to be in a smaller box."
(Brace yourself)
"You mean to tell me, they like... shrinked her in the dryer?!?!"
sigh.
I laughed. A lot. And never really got into the details of what cremation is/was. She did, however, see the smaller box and just kind of gave a knowing nod at the funeral.
This. Is. My. Life.
