Mary Katherine died.
I asked about her hair back when I was a little kid and learnt about wigs the first time. That just popped into my head, has nothing to do with the story which follows. This is the story told by the officiant at her memorial last week. I’m paraphrasing because I can’t remember anything but I’m damned close on this:
I don’t have much to say about Mary Katherine but she was a woman who knew what she wanted and didn’t mind telling you. One day, long before she got sick, she approached me in the reception line after services. ‘I like that suit on you. It looks very nice.’ I thanked her and expected to shake hands with the next departing congregant. Mary Katherine stood in her place.
‘You should wear that when you officiate at my memorial.’
I told her, ‘Mary Katherine! You’ll be around a long time. We don’t need to speak of this.’
She shook her head and continued holding up the line. ‘No. I want you to look nice and I approve of this suit. The shoes will have to be polished, though.’
Now, I had not expected quite this attention to detail, so I turned it around a little. ‘How about a tie?’
She nodded. ‘That one will do.’
Here I am today, wearing the suit and tie Mary Katherine picked out all those years ago.