This morning I was running late, so I grabbed the bundle of mail in my letterbox on my way out the door and just shoved it into my bag without a glance. Now I sat in my office and opened the top envelope. I felt a brief pang of anxiety as I unfolded the letter. It was the final invoice from the funeral home.
My grandmother was an amazing woman. Her energy was infectious. She was sweet but could also be a bit manipulative, though not in a bad way. She just always knew how to get her way, and even into her eighties nothing got past her. A life well lived had come full circle with this acknowledgement from the funeral home. A strange final step in a life that would live on now only in our memories.
My favourite memory of her was how she loved to dance, and she was really good at it. I was always jealous about that. I’ve never really felt comfortable cutting loose on the dance floor. I imagine that being able to dance really well must be the best feeling in the world.
Thoughts of my grandmother cutting up the dance floor were interrupted by a rap on my office door. It was our receptionist telling me that my 9 o’clock appointment had arrived.
Her name was Georgia and I was to interview her for a job as an external consultant to help us improve our productivity. Honestly, with family and funeral still uppermost in my mind, I really wasn’t prepared for this meeting. I planned just to question her around what she did and how she thought she could help us. I guess I ...