At The Diner
By Neil Plakcy
Copyright 2010 by Neil Plakcy and Untreed Reads Publishing
Cover By Dara England
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.
At the Diner
We buried my mom in a cemetery just north of Albany, in a plot that looks out over the Hudson River. I liked that. I thought maybe she could look out from her grave sometimes, if there was anything left of her that could see, or feel, and the river would be there moving along on its way to the sea, and it would be good. It was a bitter cold day in February, and we stayed around just long enough to see the coffin begin to drop down into the earth.
My father didn't say anything to me the whole day, not at the house, the funeral home, in the limousine or at the cemetery. He had not spoken to me for about three weeks before she died, and it was another two months before he said anything at all.