Carefully, I imagine, they lay her down on the path toward her eternal rest in the back seat of his worn-down Volvo. I imagine they had her eyes closed shut, but her mouth slightly agape, dried from saliva for some time. Her hands closed as in prayer on her chest as the car made its way through the paved streets of the idyllic place where she’d spent the last of her years.And somehow I imagine the vibrations and bumps of the ride toward the furnace jerked her fingers loose, and that her arm fell down the front of the seat and dangled there in response to the motions of the vehicle.

But the furnace people refused to accept her as she was. She needs a coffin, they said, and so her path toward eternal rest had to be put on hold for another while.