Mortal Memory

by Thomas H Cook

Published 21 April 1993
Along with Jamie and my  mother, Laura died at approximately four in the  afternoon. It was almost two hours later that Mrs.  Hamilton, a neighbor from across the street, saw my  father drive away. During those long two hours in  which he remained in the house, my father washed my  mother's body and arranged her neatly on the bed.  After that, he made a ham sandwich and ate it at  the table in the kitchen. He drank a cup of coffee,  leaving both the plate and the cup in the sink. He  didn't pack anything, because he left with  nothing. He didn't reenter either Laura's of Jamie's  room. He made no attempt to clean up the frightful  mess that had been made of them. And yet, for no  apparent reason, he remained in the house for a full  two hours. What had he been waiting for?