We went to see Grandma Comfort, who died ten years ago. Her back door was ajar, so we went in. We had heard something bad had happened and thought there had been a fire, but everything was intact. Dahlia Man's dog was locked in an upstairs bedroom. Everyone was acting as if Grandma had just died. People were going through her stuff and taking what they wanted. I stayed upstairs while everyone else congregated down in the living room. I was looking through all the old VHS movies and little trinkets Grandma had collected. She always had odds and ends saved up for presents, and I took some little notepads for my neice, A.E.
As we were getting ready to leave, there was a delivery. It was some kind of fabric, folded up and wrapped in plastic. Mother was already in the car and I took them to ask what it was. She took one look and told me not to worry about it. I realized then that they were chair covers for the funeral. I took them back to the house, where vendors were standing in line to talk to my aunts and uncles. They had decorated the downstairs in all white for the funeral, with white hangings on the walls and covering all the furniture. When Mother saw it she was appalled. The others had to go somewhere, and while they were gone, Mother put everything back the way Grandma used to keep it, with warm marigold tones. When the others came back, they were very upset. Mother explained that Grandma would not have wanted all the decorations and fuss, and they kept it that way.