Her face was completely relaxed with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She was lying on a board covered with a sheet, and another sheet was pulled up to her chest. You could see the outline of her arms beneath the sheet crossed over her chest. A bible lay on her stomach, unmoving.
They say when someone dies, they look as if they are asleep. I've even said that myself. “Oh he looked like he was sleeping” But she didn't look like she was sleeping. She looked at peace, finally. During the last few months of her life, her sleep had been interrupted constantly by sighs, moans, tossing, and turning as she tried to find a spot that was comfortable. But there had been a war raging inside her body and there were no satisfactory positions left to sleep in. Everything hurt, every where hurt.
There was no mahogany coffin with a velvet interior and a plump pillow. Her head lay on a flat pillow, similar to the one she had carried around with her always. It was her favorite. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, she'd decided to be cremated. No sense in a fancy burial; she wouldn't be there and it would only cost us money no one had. But we would have gladly spent it, had she wanted one. I couldn't stay there long, looking at her. I knew she was better off. She'd told me from the beginning that she was going to be a winner either way. She'd either beat the disease and be with us, or she would die and be with Jesus. But I wasn't a winner. I was lost. And seeing her at peace finally only gave me a tiny bit of comfort. Because what good was her peace when I suddenly felt unwhole, ripped apart?