“Things will definitely be different without Nick. I’m sure the carpool schedule will have to be changed at work. I know there’ll be a void in his department. No one there currently can fill his job duties, so some recruitment will be necessary.”
It was a warped funeral. The people in the audience nodded in agreement with the eulogist’s words as if those things
are what you mean when you say that ‘things will be different’ after a person dies. Had we come so far, fallen so far down our abyss of happiness that we didn’t know, even in our minds what our hearts should
feel, what was appropriate protocol, at least, for an occasion like this? White tissues replaced with white pill bottles, stylish black dresses worn by clueless women following a tradition they didn’t understand, people unashamedly eying their watches. Where did all the grief go, exactly? We don’t have it, but it’s too powerful and natural a thing to be destroyed
by some synthetic drug. What had Redeal done with it all, I wondered. It made me feel uneasy.