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Strains of cello music played while the casket was being closed for what would be forever and always. The rich, low tones touched the hearts of Annie’s children. She loved this music and while it was moving and sad, it was also beautiful. It was their mother. This hadn’t been the only type of music she had loved – there were many -- just as there were many facets to the woman she had been. The emotions that the cello stirred made it the only choice for this moment. This was a moment they would remember forever.
The sun shone through the stained glass windows at a slant and made the funeral director’s black suit a colorful mosaic. His work at the casket was reverent and private. His movements, thoughtful and deliberate. In fact, it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion. It was both touching and painful to witness. The ray of sunlight captured the scene like a spotlight. The irony of it was lost on no one. Annie always hated being the center of attention and now here she was, front and center, in a spotlight that was sent from heaven, just for her. It was finally her moment.
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“What are you going to name him?” the nurse asked quietly.
“Dillon Paul,” Annie replied softly.
.....
