Please Respect The Family's Privacy

LORETTA JAMES, 52

passed peacefully

at home

Tuesday evening,

surrounded by family.

She was a mother,

a grandmother,

a sister,

a friend,

the kind of woman

who remembered birthdays

without Facebook reminding her,

who kept twenty dollars

folded behind her driver's license

because somebody was always going to need it,

who could stretch Sunday dinner

three days past Sunday,

and who wore long sleeves

even in July.

She is survived by

two children,

three grandchildren,

four sisters,

and her husband

of thirty-two years,

who asks for privacy

during this

difficult time.

Loretta loved gospel music,

peach cobbler,

old detective shows,

and sitting on the porch

after everybody else

went to sleep.

She did not like hospitals.

She did not like police.

She did not like people

asking too many questions.

At least,

that's what

we were told.

She died Tuesday.

She died at home.

She died

No.

You don't get

to delete that part too.

Loretta missed work

six times last year.

Once because she fell.

Once because she walked

into a cabinet.

Once because she was clumsy.

Once because she bruised easily.

Once because she didn't want

to talk about it.

And once because

The family asks

that you respect

her husband's privacy.

There.

We said it again.

Is that enough?

Can we continue now?

The service will be held

Saturday at eleven.

Closed casket.

The family requests

no photographs.

Please do not ask

why.

In lieu of flowers,

please send donations to

We were asked

not to include that.

Loretta leaves behind

a closet full of church hats,

a freezer full of food,

seventeen voicemails

her daughter cannot delete,

a coffee mug

with lipstick still on the rim,

three grandchildren

too young to understand

why Grandma isn't coming back,

and a neighbor

who heard something

Tuesday night.

The neighbor turned up

the television.

Across the street,

somebody saw the porch light

blink twice.

Nobody knocked.

Her sister almost called.

Her daughter almost asked.

Her coworker almost said,

Girl, are you okay?

Almost.

Almost.

Almost.

Funny how much room

one word can take up.

There were people

who knew something.

People who suspected something.

People who heard something.

People who saw something.

People who decided

it wasn't their business.

Somebody noticed

she stopped wearing lipstick

because it drew attention

to the split in her lip.

Somebody noticed

she stopped laughing

with her whole mouth.

Somebody noticed

she started checking the driveway

before finishing a sentence.

Somebody noticed

she apologized

when nobody had accused her

of anything.

Her daughter noticed

the way she said,

I'm fine.

Not like an answer.

Like instructions.

Her sister noticed

every phone call ended

when a door opened.

Her neighbor noticed

Tuesday night.

Everybody noticed

something.

Nobody noticed

enough.

Or maybe

noticed isn't the word

we've been avoiding.

There should have been a moment.

One moment when somebody stopped pretending.

Maybe when she came to work wearing sunglasses on a cloudy morning.

Maybe when she stopped answering the phone after dark.

Maybe when her daughter asked why she kept saying she was tired.

Maybe when her sister noticed she had started speaking softer whenever he entered the room.

Maybe when the neighbor heard the argument.

Maybe Tuesday night.

Maybe years before Tuesday.

Somebody could have knocked.

Somebody could have called.

Somebody could have stayed.

Somebody could have said,

Loretta, you don't have to explain anything. Just come with me.

But everybody was waiting for somebody else to become the somebody.

So nobody did.

And now everybody has something to say.

At the funeral.

In the parking lot.

Over food afterward.

Everywhere except

when Loretta was still here

to hear it.

Now there is an obituary

with a hole in it.

Right where the truth

should be.

Officially,

Loretta James

passed peacefully

at home.

The family appreciates

your thoughts and prayers.

Services begin at eleven.

Please arrive on time.

Please wear black.

Please don't bring flowers.

Please don't ask

what happened.

You already didn't.