"Grief does not change you . . . it reveals you."

-John Green

The mood was somber at the funeral home, which wouldn't have been unusual if the family who ran it wasn't usually so cheerful. But the couple so used to working with death had recently suffered a death of their own.

"I dressed him."

"Yeah?"

"Over here."

Robbie was sixteen, a typical teenager—moody, rebellious, interested in darkness and whatnot—yet the circumstances of his death were anything but. Even his own parents didn't know exactly what had happened to him and the others. No one did.

"What do you think?"

He was in a gray sweater vest with a black tie and slacks.

Greg Valentino was taken aback. " . . . He looks so grown up . . . but . . . he also looks so much . . . younger . . . "

Janice nodded. "That's what I was thinking . . . I miss the days when he used to let us dress him like this."

A slight smile broke across Greg's face. "Can you imagine what he'd say if he saw what he's wearing right now?"

Janice couldn't help but chuckle. "Mom! Are you serious? I wouldn't be caught dead in this outfit!" They both laughed softly.

" . . . I hadn't thought about that," she sighed. "Do you suppose I should change him?"

Greg shrugged.

"I thought about putting him in that hoodie he always wore, but . . . " She was holding it in her arms. " . . . he just always seemed so . . . so sad whenever he had it on . . . "

Greg wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Nah, I think we should hold on to the hoodie . . . I-I'm sure he wouldn't mind, just to . . . y'know . . . "

"Just to remember him by . . . " She dried her eyes with a sleeve.

They stood quietly for several minutes. He'd complained of insomnia for years, but now he looked as if he was finally sleeping well.

"When did it happen?"

Greg turned to his wife. "Hm?"

"He used to be our little ball of sunshine . . . when did he get so . . . so sad?"

Greg sighed and shrugged. "Probably around thirteen, if I had to estimate. That's usually when the hormones hit hard . . . I was the same way for several years when I was young."

"Really?"

"Yeah . . . I was actually pretty depressed all through high school and college. About that time that I was really hit with the inevitability and permanence of death for the first time. Kinda has a way of bumming a kid out, y'know?"

Janice blinked. "I never knew that . . . "

"Yeah. By the time we met I had my life all figured out, though, and I wasn't having problems anymore. I never really thought about it, but I guess that might have something to do with how I got interested in the funeral business in the first place. Pretty ironic, in retrospect."

"How come you never told me?"

He shrugged. "I guess I kinda forgot about it. I mean, you can't exactly forget about something like that, but . . . I guess it just wasn't at the front of my mind, y'know?"

"Yeah . . . "

There was silence for a while.

"Greg?"

"Yes?"

"How long have we been in business?"

"The funeral home?"

"Yes."

He scratched the back of his head. "Gosh, I think . . . twenty years? Yeah, going on twenty years, hard as it is to believe . . . "

"Twenty years is a long time."

Greg nodded.

"And, I've been thinking lately . . . maybe we should take a break."

"A break?"

"Not forever, probably, of course. And not right away, especially with how busy we are right now. I've just been thinking, with everything that's happened lately . . . "

Greg scratched his chin. "Hm, a break . . . you have always said that you wanted to see the catacombs under Paris."

Janice chuckled. "Well yes, but . . . I was thinking maybe we could use a break from death. At least for a little while."

"Hm." Greg thought for a moment.

"You know something? I think you might be right. After we wrap everything up this week, I think we could use a break. For a little while, anyway." He wrapped his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

And they continued to watch their son sleep.