There are moments in life that can never be anticipated or rehearsed. Moments when the weight of grief and love intertwine so tightly, they suffocate you. That was how I felt walking into the funeral home with my son, Sister on Facetime, their father and his wife. Together, we stood at the threshold of an unthinkable task.

Each of us was there for a different reason – different connections to Kay, different roles, different forms of love.

In a room filled with coffins, we made our way past rows of solemn choices. It was as if the one that spoke to us most called out gently, waiting for us. A rose gold casket with white satin interior immediately struck a chord. It was beautiful, elegant, and delicate. On the inside of the lid was an embroidered rose, a tender detail that felt perfect.

Kay’s favorite color was pink, in every shade – from the soft blush of a sunset to the bold brightness of peonies in full bloom. The rose gold casket shimmered with enough pink to honor her in a way that was deeply meaningful.    

We all knew. This was it. This would be hers.    

Planning the service and burial for her became an intricate balance of honoring her life and trying to piece together our hearts in the process.    

I chose a song that she had adored as a child, “Over the Rainbow.” I can still hear her sweet, tiny voice singing the melody to me – soft and full of life.

“Mommy, play it again.” I could almost hear her voice. And that giggle. God, I miss that giggle.

No casket, no ceremony, no song could ever fully encapsulate her essence. How do you distill a soul so vibrant, a love so profound, into mere objects or moments?

Kay was so much more. 

I stood there, hugging MJ and listening to Sister’s voice coming through the phone, feeling the weight of both their grief pressing against my heart. In that fragile moment, we were broken, but we were still together. And Kay was there, holding us, just as much as we were holding each other.

She was in the colors we couldn’t see but felt. She was in the spaces between our words. She was in every painful, yet loving decision we made that day.

And as we finally left the funeral home, there was no sense of closure, no relief from the ache that had burrowed deep into our hearts. But there in the quiet, was a bond that stretched across our shared pain and love.

An understanding.