Twenty Dollars More, Quietly
I organized her whole send-off and quietly overpaid the gift fund. What I feel now isn't grief, and I don't know why.
This one goes to a heavy place. If you’d rather not read it tonight, that’s a fine choice — support resources are here.
I organized the whole thing. The card that went around the department, a laminated collage nobody but me wanted, a gift-fund request with a note that said no pressure, but obviously pressure. She hugged me twice at the party. Said she'd miss me most.
It's almost 2am now and I'm the one still here, stacking chairs, and my phone buzzes with the transfer confirmation. Everyone's paid in. I put in twenty more than anyone else, quietly, in case people forgot, which is such a me thing to do that it embarrasses me a little.
I keep waiting for the part where I'm sad. Everyone else got to it today, easy, the crying by the elevator, the group hug. I did the logistics instead, and now the building's empty and I'm standing here with the lights half off, and what I actually feel is lighter. Like a shift I've been covering for someone else finally ended.
I'm not going to say that out loud tomorrow when people ask how I'm holding up. I'll say I'm sad. I'll probably even manage to look it. I just don't know yet what it means that the truest thing I felt tonight was relief, alone, with nobody left to perform for.
Did this one stay with you?
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