I’ve chosen several pieces about the return of the dead (I could probably have selected a personal anthology on that theme alone). In Alice Jolly’s story, the narrator’s beloved friend has died and it’s the day of the funeral. However, the deceased friend is not ready to make her final departure; she darts and flits just out of sight. The narrator scours the house for her friend – searching under beds, looking behind curtains – as if engaged in a dreadful round of hide and seek, although it’s clear that “[t]his is not a silly children’s game. The rituals we will enact today are for grown-ups, definitely for grown-ups.” As the story races to its harrowing climax, the narrator pleads, cajoles, and ultimately must force her friend to leave. After all, there’s nothing to be done about it – “this is the time appointed. It cannot be changed.”
The story is unreal, but I find it one the most realistic depictions of death and loss I’ve read. It’s about how grief often hews close to madness, how living might feel like an act of betrayal, and how the dead can linger long after they should have left.
First published in The London Magazine, and available to read online here
A Personal Anthology 