The edges of a freshly dug grave began to crumble under the heavy weight of a relentless Autumn downpour. The precipitous assault had begun overnight and had not subsided as forecasters had earlier predicted.
Groundskeepers worked diligently to cover the awaiting grave, but to no avail, at this point, there was nothing they could do but watch the frost-nipped ground guide torrents of rainwater into the open grave without remorse.
The funeral director, a lanky man with a long oval-shaped head, topped with painfully thin, gray-blond hair, greeted guests arriving for the afternoon funeral, at Smith and Walterman Funeral Palace.
Through a thinly veiled scowl, the Director repetitively announced that, due to inclement weather, the funeral service would be delayed, as he begrudgingly guided rain-soaked guests towards the hospitality suite; all the while, expressing his hope that the rain would clear up soon.
Newly arrived guests complained about the bothersome delay in the service, declaring that they had more important places to be, while others, ignoring the solemnity of the occasion, chatted gleefully while they gorged on an assortment of complimentary refreshments included in the frugal funeral package.
Much of the chatter about the room centered on pretentious frivolity and boastful arrogance. Presumptive whispers about the contents of the decedent’s Will, traveled like wildfire around the room as guests deliberated on the complications of finding a replacement at the firm and of course, there was no shortage of gossip and allegations.
Guests in the tiny suite greeted each other informally, as though the occasion was jovial in nature; cavorting amongst each other as though long-lost friends at a reunion. However, to the elderly woman who stood ominously silent alongside the lonely brown coffin, this was an important occasion: the finality of a treasured relationship and an end of an era.
