The dim light of the funeral home hung heavy, like a storm cloud pressing down on my chest. I sat stiffly, staring at the muted carpet pattern while Thanatos and Charon murmured nearby. The scent of lilies clawed at my throat. Brenna shifted beside me, her dress whispering against the seat—a sound too sharp in the unbearable silence.
Three days.
The thought returned, brutal and merciless. Three days since she left me.
A gentle nudge broke through the haze.
“Persephone?”
My head jerked toward Brenna, her face tight with worry. “Huh?” My voice cracked, foreign in my own mouth. “What… what?”
Thanatos’ kind smile offered no real comfort. “Do you know if your mother wished to be buried or cremated?”
The question splintered through me. My throat closed. I shook my head slowly. “No… We never talked about it.”
There was a pause. Then the words fell from my lips without permission.
“Bury her.”
They tasted like ash. A mistake. My hands trembled in my lap. We never spoke about this. Why had I said that? It felt like betrayal.
Thanatos’ pen scratched across the notepad, glancing at me through the corner of his eye. Brenna’s hand brushed against mine, feather-light, grounding me. I was grateful for her silence. Even well-meaning comfort felt like too much.
“Alright,” Thanatos said gently. “How soon would you like this to happen, Ms. Deimos?”
I blinked at him, as if he were speaking another language. I hadn’t even begun to accept she was gone. How could I plan the ceremony marking it?
“As soon as possible,” Brenna answered for me, her voice strong where mine had failed.
Rain pattered against the passenger window like a steady drumbeat. My fingers clenched around the handle of my purse, the letter inside like a brand against my side. It waited—patient and cruel.
My phone buzzed. I dragged it from my purse.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Deimos? This is Thanatos from Asphodel Meadows Mortuary.”
Asphodel. Of course it was.
“Yes?”
“We’ve scheduled your mother’s funeral for Friday at three. Is that alright with you?”
Friday.
It echoed in my mind like a tolling bell.
“Yes,” I murmured. Nothing was alright, but what did that matter?
“We’ll see you then.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up. Brenna glanced at me as we stopped at a red light.
“Everything okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just funeral stuff. Friday.”
The lie scraped my throat.
“Perse,” she said, voice low, “whatever’s in that letter, it’s probably something she wanted you to know.”
I stared at my purse. The envelope might as well have been a live wire.
“I’ll read it, Bren. Just… not yet.”
She nodded, understanding without pushing. Rain danced against the windshield, a rhythmic reminder of everything I hadn’t said.
Friday came cloaked in gray. I felt heavy, like I was moving underwater. Brenna drove. The funeral home loomed ahead, darker than I remembered.
Thanatos and Charon stood at the entrance, silent guardians.
The service blurred. Faces swam around me, eyes wet, voices soft. They offered condolences. I gave nods and hollow words in return. I couldn’t feel any of it.
Then it was just the casket. Just her.
I waited for her to move. To smile. But she remained still, distant. The letter burned in my dress pocket.
Brenna stood beside me.
“You did well, Perse,” she whispered, her arm looping around my shoulder. “She’d be proud.”
A sob escaped me. Thanatos stepped closer.
“If you’d like a moment alone…”
I nodded. Couldn’t speak.
The room emptied. Silence settled.
I reached out with a shaking hand, touching hers. Cold. Still.
“Mom…” My voice cracked.
Tears came, hard and fast. “I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t know how to breathe.”
I broke open. The grief tore through me like a wave, unstoppable. Brenna returned silently, standing beside me in quiet solidarity. Even Thanatos and Charon stayed still, as if holding their breath with me.
When the sobs finally slowed, I nodded. It was time.
One last look. One last goodbye.
The rain had stopped. But the sky remained bruised and gray, matching the storm inside me.
The procession moved like a dream. Each car a silent monument to loss.
At the cemetery, the world pretended to be at peace. But nothing was peaceful.
The casket descended. Every inch felt like another piece of me breaking.
The finality was unbearable. And yet… beneath the grief, gratitude flickered. For Brenna’s strength. For the quiet dignity of Thanatos and Charon. For not being truly alone.
Even in the face of death, I had not been abandoned.
Not completely.