Dear Sally, I know that you’re frightened and there are many decisions I can’t prepare you for, but you must immediately tell the hospital and funeral director that I’m to be interred intact, in the family plot in West Laurel. Uncle William has the details from Grandpa Gene’s burial. I’ve also enclosed a portrait from the 1968 Republican winter gala. The blue chiffon I wore is my very favorite. I hung it in a gold garment bag in the hall closet beside the mink. Please bring them the lipstick from my handbag and remind them how I like to wear my hair. Will you show them the picture? Sally, I always worried about you because you march to the beat of your own drum, but now I know that’s good. I know your life will be an adventure. I love you, Mom.
It’s like no one cares that I’m gone. They should love me. I mean, maybe they do, but I don’t even know what it is. You spend your whole life thinking you’re not getting it, people aren’t giving it to you. Then you realize they’re trying and you don’t even know what it is.