A start...

He sat in the metal folding chair gazing over her body at the creme colored curtains on the wall. The room was so silent, so final. The air conditioning would kick on every once in awhile and a gentle breeze would blow across him. He imagined it was her blowing him a kiss.

He stopped himself from thinking of her and refocused on the hard cold chair and the creme curtains.  He didn't want to cry. He was tired of crying. He wanted to hold her and hug her. He wanted to tell her all the things that he would miss about her.

They knew this day was coming for a long time and still, it felt as if he had no warning. It felt as if she had suddenly passed away and he didn't have a chance to say "I love you."

He gained some composer and glanced at her again. He thought about how they had planned this day together. He remembered how very clear she was with him about what she wanted to wear, and how she wanted her hair when "her chariot took her up to heaven." That was what she called the casket they had picked out together last year when she got sick--her chariot.

She wanted to be comfortable not dressed up in some stuffy suited dress. He smirked when he thought of how she had gotten out of bed, in what had seemed like months, to show him the shirt and pants outfit. He sighed thinking of his spunky wife who loved life down to the last drop. He couldn't take being without her. 

He got up and walked out of the room. The rest of their family and friends would be there soon and he wanted to be ready for all the "I'm so sorries". That's what Claire had called all the condolences he would soon get.