“Interview?” asked the sales clerk looking at the black suit and blouse I placed on the counter.
Caught off guard, I answered with brutal honesty, “Actually, my husband is deploying, and I want to have something appropriate to wear…just in case…”
It took her a moment to regain her composure.
Mental note: if ever I go shopping with another women who needs such attire, prevent any and all interactions between the woman and the sales staff. She will not need to deal with that.
The unit with which Bill is deploying requires all sorts of paperwork, including the usual “Next of Kin” to notify in case of a tragedy. He hoped to spare me the discomfort of answering questions like “Who do you want to officiate at your funeral?” and “Where do you want to be buried?” But then he saw that I had to sign the form, so he clued me in.
It’s a good thing, too. I think I am much more suited to answer questions like “Besides the official party, who do you want to be present when your spouse is notified?” And although I am confident that he can plan a decent burial for himself, I would like to have some say in what Gospel reading is read.
“How about this: ‘In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be…'”
“I like that,” he said.
“What are you guys doing?” asked Fritz, passing by just then. Ever notice that kids are always attracted to the wrong conversations?
“We’re just talking about passages from the Bible,” I answered, blowing him off.
“But what are you doing?” he pressed. Obnoxiously astute kid.
“We’re just reading from the Bible,” I insisted. He went away.
I was a bit grateful for his interruption, though. I did okay through the other selections, but that one got me a bit teary. It was the same way at the store. I took three suits into the dressing room. The third one was the one I liked best. I looked in the mirror and asked myself if this was how I wanted to look for my husband’s funeral, and that moment of decision was emotional. But it was then that I became aware of the rather loud background music blaring in the store. I don’t know who was singing or the rest of the words, but the refrain right then was, hopefully, the theme song of my life:
“Everything’s gonna be alright…”