Gail stared down at the two dark holes in the ground. The mud was the same color as the mahogany coffins that were being lowered as rain mixed with the tears running down her cheeks. The bright green grass seemed to mock her as it waved from the light breeze that blew between her nyloned legs. She glanced around at the small group of people that had followed the hearse from the church to the graveyard. Most of the people were friends of her parents, people that she didn't even remember meeting. Her gaze stopped at one woman. This woman was the spitting image of her mother; long blond hair pulled back in a low ponytail underneath a wide-brimmed black hat. She was wearing a black suit, holding a hymnal, looking composed and elegantly grieved. This was Gail's sister.
She sighed as she looked at Robyn. The only thing they had shared were the two people being buried too soon. Her heart physically hurt as the cemetery workers started piling dirt on top of the coffins. She barely heard the priest murmur prayers over the dark brown piles. When the service was finally over, she didn't move. She couldn't think of a time or place when she couldn't be with her parents. She didn't know what to do without them. The house she lived in with them wasn't a home when they weren't going to be there.
She felt a presence beside her and glanced over. It was her sister. They stood there in silence, overlooking the now muddy graves with the two gray headstones jutting out from the soft ground.
After a few minutes, Robyn said, "Well, I suppose we should get over to the house." She turned and walked over to her car and waited for Gail to follow.
With one last look at the graves, Gail ran over and got in the passenger seat.
The ride to the house was spent in awkward silence.