My Husband’s Death
A fable about feelings
Published in
3 min readNov 4, 2021
On that cold December day, I stood in the chilly, dark morgue perplexed as to what my husband’s body was doing within the coffin. I was certain that he was too confined in that cramped, uncomfortable box.
Clean-shaven, his short gray hair neatly combed. He looked dashing in his favorite blue shirt with no tie, even if he was somewhat pale.
