Coping

So what does one do the day after her cousin dies?

Well, when she can finally get herself out of bed, which is quite a task, she knows she needs to start moving. So after a quick cup of coffee she gets ready and goes to CVS for waterproof mascara, and wonders why she hadn't bought some years ago. Duh. You cry all the time, she thinks.

Then she goes in search of some good granny panties, because even though she vowed never to wear control top anything ever again, she knows she needs them. There will be no pantyhose, but she needs a little midsection support. She wants to look good. For Donna, who was a fashionista. And she knows they made Donna laugh.

And then she goes to her aunt and uncle's house and grieves with her family. They hug, they cry, they talk. They share stories and begin cherishing their memories of Donna. They assure one another that she is a better place, that she is no longer suffering. And, oh, how she had suffered in the end.

She goes home and sleeps and starts the next day with a deep breath...and goes in search of the perfect necklace to go with the dress she intends to wear to the funeral, because she really does want to dress as a nod to Donna. They all do. They talked about it the night before: what they were all going to wear, what Donna would like, how Donna would be happy if not a single person wore black, yet understands it is a flattering color and will forgive those of us who choose to wear it--for fashion's sake, not in mourning. Especially with a splash of color. Or good accessories.

And when she finds The Perfect Necklace, the one she had pictured in her head, displayed right beside a necklace that reminds her of Donna, that she knows she must buy for Donna's daughter Lindsay, she takes another deep breath. Donna, is that you? she wonders.

She gets in the car and wonders if what she thinks happened really happened. She takes another deep breath and feels something tickle the back of her neck. She wipes away at nothing. She feels it again. And she thinks, Thank you, Donna. Thanks for letting me know you are here.



rest in peace, dear Donna