Beauty in the casket






Beauty Queens die too. And while I know everyone dies, when you see a  beautiful young woman lying in her coffin it hits home. Death will take anyone and everyone, no matter colour, age or social status.

Buried with her pageant sashes and heels, I peered down at her name plate nailed on the lid of her casket as it lowered into the Earth.

Her age reads 31 years old.

My age.

The coffin reached the bottom of the grave and mourners turned towards their cars with heads hung. Another curtain closed. I sighed and stared up at the clouds moving swiftly across the sky. I was granted more time and we never know why. Why are some lives cut short when they are in their prime, just like the Beauty Queen?

Just last week she was on a stage with bouquets of flowers being thrown at her as she took the crown. Now her dainty body was laid to rest, slightly wounded by the car, but I managed to camouflage the cuts and grazes with make up.

I said my final farewell to the beauty and headed back towards the hearse. It didn’t like leaving her on her own in the ground. I wanted to stay and spend some more time with her. But I couldn’t. I had other clients waiting for me on the mortuary table.

Death doesn’t wait And life goes on.


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