The funeral had been arranged with astonishing speed.
Julian insisted on a private ceremony and told relatives that Chloe’s condition had made an open-casket viewing inappropriate.
Yet when I arrived at the funeral home, the casket was partially open.
And that single detail would save her life.
The Sound Beneath the Satin
The funeral service began at eleven o’clock on Saturday morning.
Only twenty-three people attended. Julian had discouraged extended relatives from traveling, explaining that the family wanted an intimate goodbye.
I sat in the front row wearing the same black dress I had worn to my husband’s funeral eight years earlier.
The minister spoke about Chloe’s bright smile, her love of butterflies, and the kindness she showed toward animals.
I barely heard him.
All I could think about was the little girl who used to climb onto my lap and demand another bedtime story.
When the service ended, mourners approached the casket individually.
