Though a traumatic experience, there was a sense of closure as I peered over the casket to ease my mind of the loss in my family. Cancer, so it was, an aggressive and untreatable disease in which my dear Aunt Everly was plagued. As I traced my eyes over the contours of the pale wooden box, I was overcome by a sense of grief. I gazed at her motionless body, laced in the finest silk pantsuit I've ever laid my eyes on. It was beautiful, like a small boat in a darkened sea; the waves crashing over and toppling it, eventually breaking it to pieces. It was still the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. It was so peaceful. The little boat, dismembered by the roaring waters, was at peace with it all. It knew it was no match for the waves, and was quietly defeated. My eyes started to well up with this salty liquid at the thought of her never being able to come back and see me strut across the stage with that little rolled up shred of parchment; that smile that stretched from ear to ear. I placed my fingers over the casket, touching the pillowed interior with the lightest touch. Quite the woman, Aunt Everly was. That little boat would never be rebuilt; for it had been lost at sea.
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