The Girls in Skirts

prelude

The post had been shared on facebook over 700 times. The black and white photo with the edited edges and the illustrious glow surrounding her silhouette had been impossible to miss. Even if June had tried, there is no way that she could have avoided the images or the news they carried.

Nearly every facebook friend that June had shared the post giving the official news of the death of the First Lady. It was not the first lady of the United States, no, it was the First Lady of the Pentecostal church that June and her family had officially walked out of just two years and four days ago. The First Lady had been the Pastor's wife of the church that June had attended for sixteen years. The First Lady had been like an extra grandmother to June for most of her adult life.

Seeing multiple images of the First Lady shared over social media for the past week had somehow broken something inside of June. Buried deep inside of June's heart somewhere was the desire to go and say a final goodbye to the woman who had once held such a special place in her life. Buried not as deep, but still inside of her heart, was a sense of relief that a woman who had caused so much agony and pain in her life was also gone for good. Those horrible mixed emotions had battled inside of her soul for a week as she requested the time off of work, struggled with what to wear, let a few uneasy tears fall, and finally forced herself to drive to the funeral service.

Now June found herself sitting motionless in her car and staring at the door of the far too familiar brick church building. Inside of her chest June's heart felt like it was beating uncontrollably.

It had been June's choice to attend the funeral. It had been a choice that she so carefully tried to articulate to her husband and children. They had tried to understand, but they simply could not. June needed to attend the funeral. June needed the chance to say goodbye and find closure on a long and twistedly beautiful chapter in her life, a chapter that she had genuinely never thought would end.

Now sitting alone outside of the church building that had once been such a special place to her, June started questioning why she really needed to attend the funeral of the First Lady.

Was it really for closure?
Was it some twisted kind of triumph?
Was it guilt?

She started to question if she really was as strong and capable as she had pretended to be. Was she even close to being healed of her hurts? She definitely did not feel like she had overcome her fears as she stepped out of her car and tugged on the hem of her dress trying to make it reach past her knees.

Inside of the church June found herself ducking her head and trying to silently move through the crowd of people she had once spent so very many hours with. Dozens of familiar faces passed her by, all faces that she had once warmly smiled at and given hugs to.

A slideshow full of pictures from years of old church events was playing in the vestibule. June caught her breath when she saw a photo of her younger self standing proudly next to the First Lady and Pastor. It was a photo taken on her wedding day fourteen years ago, a beautiful photo of a young and smiling bride.

June swallowed the panic rising up in her throat and clutched at the program in her hand. Her eyes stared at her younger reflection until the photo dissolved into another one, this one of the First Lady singing into a microphone behind a wooden pulpit.

June's feet moved quickly and she raced through the crowd gathered around the photos and guest book and into the sanctuary where so much of her life had taken place. This was her first time back in this space in two years. The last time June had been here she had left in tears.

Inside of the dimly lit sanctuary a line of people waited to give their own final goodbyes and catch one last glimpse of the beloved First Lady inside of her coffin. The line looked overwhelmingly long to June and suddenly all she wanted to do was sit down and fade into the background. Her eyes scanned the long rows of pews.