25 characters

The girls went to the funeral of their friend this morning. Not something I expected to send my children off to do. As we watched the car pull out of the driveway, Tom expressed his amazement at how quickly a funeral was organized. I told him this was the norm. He argued how I knew nothing. I told him three to four days was all I've ever known when a burial is done, and unfortunately I've been through quite a few deaths. He then told me how death is a weekly occurrence at work and funerals take a week or two. I argued how he knew nothing. Typical in our household.

Then we sat in our living room and had our morning coffee, and thought how blessed we were to have our children alive and healthy. We mourned for the parents and what they are going through today and for the rest of their days. We discussed what we knew and what we didn't know about the situation. So many stories; the heart, a valve, surgery, death. We sat in silence sipping.

Eventually I searched for the obituary online. When I was unable to find anything, Tom reminded me again of the time frame and early funeral. I brushed that off. Let him have his beliefs. We hopefully will never have to know what we would do in this situation. He said it took time to publish. I told him it takes a day or two. We argued that one back and forth.

Tom: "It's free, but it takes a week or so."
Me: "No. Not true. It isn't free. We paid over $200 for my mother's two obituaries in two different papers."
Tom: "It's free. I'm pretty sure. Look it up. See how much it costs. My hamster died. How much for an obituary?"
Me: "It's free for five lines."
Tom: "I thought so. Five lines. That's a lot. I could say a lot about my hamster."
Me: "Your hamster? You don't have a hamster."
Tom: "We had a hamster. He died."
Me: "He was a good hamster. But look. The five lines are only 20-25 characters. That isn't much. You could barely get a name for that. That's what I mean. Free doesn't get you much."
Tom: "Chip. That's four characters. Free."
Me: "And what does that tell you? Someone reads that and it says "Chip" what does that mean? Who puts that in an obituary?"
Tom: "Okay. Chip. Dead. RIP."

We laughed. Then we looked at each other. Laughter. It helps with so much in times that don't warrant it. We sobered. Sat awhile together on the couch, shoulders touching, watching life outside our open front door. Then he got up and went into the other room. I sat and thought of the parents. I thought of my eldest daughter trying to navigate her way through this curve ball of life. A delicate thread, life and death. So much more than 25 characters.