IGNORING THE LADY STANDING AT MY SISTER’S GRAVESIDE, PLAYING FLEETWOOD Mac’s “Landslide” on her guitar, I strained to hear the sound of scratching, so I could tell the men to stop lowering her coffin into the hole and bring her back up instead. So I could tell the priest that my sister was in a deep sleep, one that had lasted seven days, but she was awake now, and they needed to let her out of the box. Come on, Caoimhe, we’re running out of time. Hurry up and scream, cry, shout… Anything! Numb to the bone, I watched as someone produced a chair for my mother to sit on, while my father dropped
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I am unwell
