A/N: Just wanted to tell you all that this story is almost done. I have just one more chapter after this one. Thanks so much for the reviews!
Chapter Eight:
Cory slept all through that day. His mother checked on him every so often, as she made calls to funeral homes, cemeteries, and relatives.
"It's too soon for all this. She was so young," thought Mrs. Mathews as she dozed off on the couch in the living room Topanga had decorated all by herself.
The next morning, Cory woke up and reached over to hug his wife good morning. He began to weep as his mind remembered the events of the last few days. He looked up and was greeted by a room full of flowers, complete with condolences from various friends and relatives. Cory felt as if the weight of his loss was crushing him. How could he ever go on with his life?
Cory' mother walked into the room carrying several more vases of flowers.
This one is from Mr. Feeney," she remarked, "and this one is from Jack Hunter."
She sat down in the chair by his bed.
"The hospital called this morning," she said. "Her heart went to a 16 year old girl with a congenital heart defect. Her lungs went to someone fighting lung cancer from secondhand smoke. Her kidneys went to a 25 year old man who has been on dialysis for 6 years. Her liver went to a former alcoholic who turned his life around for his children."
Cory nodded, but at the same time he knew he would give all those people's lives for his wife back. Let someone else's dead wife save them.
"The memorial service will be at 2:00 tomorrow afternoon. Everyone will be there, everyone from Philadelphia, everyone from here, everyone. It's going to be a beautiful service. Your father and I picked a cemetery plot with space for you next to her. The only thing left to do is for you to pick out…a dress. We picked a casket, but we thought picking a dress should be up to you. I'll go get you some breakfast, and leave you to find something. I'm sure you want to be alone around now."
She exited quietly, shutting the door behind her. Cory pulled himself out of bed and walked into the walk-in closet. Instantly, he was surrounded by the memories that came from every piece of his wife's ample wardrobe. He stroked the wedding dress, and kissed the soft silk dress she'd worn to his last birthday party. He went through, piece-by-piece, marveling at how much they all smelled just like her, until he finally settled on the pretty dress she'd worn on their last anniversary. He grabbed the shoes she'd matched with it and brought them down stairs to his mother.
She served him toast and eggs, and then he went upstairs and tried, unsuccessfully, to watch television.