Family

We stare at Dad sitting on the mantelpiece.

“What shall we do with him?”

“We could put him in the garden.”

“I don’t think he’d like the garden.”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe not.”

“It’s a nice pot.”

“It’s not a pot, Mum, it’s an urn.”

“It’s a nice urn. We could put flowers in it.”

“We should take Dad out of it first, Mum.”

“Maybe the shed would be a good place? He spent a lot of time in the shed.”

“What did he do in there?”

“I think he was mostly keeping away from me.”

The children exchange glances and draw their own conclusions.

“You can’t scatter him in the shed. Think of the mess.”

“We could put the urn in the shed.”

“I want to put flowers in the urn. They’ll look lovely.”

They are all silent. Thinking.

“What are you going to do with your share?”

“Pay off my debts, buy a car. Then I’m going to Thailand for a year. What about you, Mum?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe some new curtains for the kitchen.”

“Oh, Mum. What about you?”

“Invest it.”

“That’s boring; you should spend it.”

“It’s my retirement fund.”

“You should spend it now. You might not live that long. Accidents happen.”

Silence.

“It was an accident. We need to get that straight.”

“We told him not to go up that ladder.”

“We said it wasn’t safe.”

“He wouldn’t listen.”

“He never listened.”

“And then he just fell.”

“Must have missed his step.”

“Easily done.”

“Never stood a chance.”

“Never stood a chance.”