Three Days Before the Casket Was Delivered, My Son Asked Me to Sign a Document

Then he asked whether the church had sent me the card yet.

I said no.

He said it was on the second page in the fellowship hall, with twelve signatures so far.

Twelve signatures.

I had my notebook out before his car turned the corner.

The fever monitor was still at the back of my closet, in its box, bought in April when Chloe had the flu and I fretted over nothing.

I walked up Julian’s front path at seven with it tucked under my arm.