Katherine sat quietly in a back row seat of the funeral home, hidden behind her required N95 pandemic mask, and watched the slowly shuffling line of mourners make their way towards Aunt Penny who was standing by the head of the casket. Penny and Uncle Carl had been married for 35 years; a journey cut short by the vicious illness that had attacked Carl only 6 months prior to his death.
Aunt Penny was a large woman: at only 5’6”, she could usually command the space around her with her cutting remarks and pointed suggestions. Today the grey was visible in her dark brown hair, and she seemed shrunken, diminished by the sudden loss of her life partner. Despite the pain that was visible in her eyes, Aunt Penny greeted each person with a question or comment about their own lives. Aunt Penny was always current with each family’s crisis, disaster, or simple predicament.
Be honest, Kat thought to herself: Aunt Penny was nosy, opinionated, and sure of her own counsel. Uncle Carl had been the yin to her yang: tall and slim, he saw the best in people while Penny searched out the scandal. Uncle Carl laughed when Penny scowled, and he gently guided Penny into growing her own self-confidence.
Aunt Penny and Uncle Carl weren’t actually close relatives. They had moved to the town of Middle Cove shortly after their wedding, and had opened a candy and tea store on the main street. Their store, Candy and Comfort, was a favourite destination for locals and visitors alike. The shelves brimmed with assorted loose-leaf teas, all of them stored in grey metal canisters with air tight lids. The canisters were antiques, and had been hand made by Uncle Carl’s great grandfather, who also used them for tea many years ago when he ran a general store in Carl’s home town. Each canister was adorned with beautifully etched designs, and Aunt Penny made a point of replacing the tight-sealing silicone gaskets in the lids yearly in order to guarantee the freshness of each imported variety of tea. The candy containers were also antiques, these were glass though, and some had the light blue tint that became popular in the early 1900s. Their covers were airtight with mason lids and flat rubber seals.
Parents and children alike enjoyed their visits to Candy and Comfort. The store smelled sweet, and there was always a tray with today’s samples available: a specialty piece of candy and a hot steeped tea warming in a thermos with a small stack of paper cups sitting beside it. The tea cups sprouted to-go lids with the advent of Covid-19 safety precautions, and patrons were encouraged to take a cup of tea with them when they left the store since masking protocols didn’t allow the removal of face coverings inside the building. Candy samples were also packaged in small bags, and tied with a gold twist tie, ready to be picked up as a customer left the store.
Kat pulled her attention back to the memorial service. Most people were seated now, and the funeral director was leading a pastor to the front of the room where a microphone had been set up by Uncle Carl’s casket. Penny was also sitting, separated from her husband by a wide aisle and a by a life cut too short.
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