PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
‘… and this one’s from Aunty Flo.’
Milky eyes squint at the card, hand waving over the pink and white blooms as if trying to waft them away. ‘Never liked chrysanths. Remind me of funerals.’
The words hit Cath square in the chest, but she pushes on. ‘You know Florence. She was Dad’s sister.’
Mum shakes her head, lips puckered tight. ‘Never had a sister. Only a brother.’ She glares across the table at the tributes and sympathy cards. ‘What’s all this rubbish for anyway?’
Cath almost says but it feels kinder not to. ‘Widow’ is such a harsh word.