Prompt #33

All the seats were filled. I had to sit in the lobby with ten other people and watch the service through glass windows. Everyone blended in with each other with the common black attire. I didn’t want to pay attention since funerals were always depressing. I didn’t even know the person except that they were friends with my grandmother. I read the service pamphlet over and over again until my grandmother nudged me to pay attention. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. On stage, three women stood around a microphone with a collage of their mother’s seventy-nine years behind them. Their voices and cries echoed through the quiet rooms as they shared stories of their mother. Not able to talk anymore, the youngest daughter collapsed sobbing in the arms of her sisters.