The Three Times My Sister Buried the Dead

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By the time our brother’s guinea pig, Abagail, died a few months later, my sister had become an experienced on-demand funeral director. Her skills filled a previously unknown need in our suburban neighborhood. Random kids would show up at our back door after school, or on Saturday mornings with their little hands cradling deceased fish, parakeets, and hamsters. 

Abagail had been a family favorite, but she was already old in rodent years when my brother received her from a family friend, and though she seemed to enjoy their nightly touch football games, her heart may have been strained. Abagail’s funeral was a twilight family-only service with tears from everyone, but our brother cried the hardest, possibly from guilt.


(Click on number 3 to continue reading the story.)