I stood in front of the mirror talking to my father and my grandmother, debating what to wear.
Grandma Ruth said, “You need pearls with that, dear.”
Dad reminded me to put on lipstick. “Look like a million bucks! What about an elegant black suit?”
I argued, “I can NOT wear black!”
It was a remarkable conversation since both my father and grandmother are dead. Yet it was as if they were standing with me that morning, in front of the full-length mirror in my linen closet. And thank goodness for Dad and Grandma’s guidance, because no one tells you what to wear to get divorced.