I told everyone I thought children shouldn’t wear black to funerals. My daughter had just turned four years old when I made her first funeral dress. I never imagined I would end up making three of these little dresses within the next three years. She was seven years old when she wore the last dress, to my father-in-law’s funeral.
The last dress I made was black with small purple flowers on it and I used purple thread to sew it. I had a different fabric in mind but my husband really wanted something more formal looking. The bodice tied around her neck. It didn't fit correctly across her back so I attached two purple ribbons, one on each side, to tie in the back to keep it from gaping. I made her a skirt for the viewing and a matching dress for my niece from the same fabric. I wore a calf length, black dress I already owned.
My daughter was nearly hysterical as she sobbed through the memorial service. As guests began to fidget and give sideways glances, I sensed others found it disturbing. I finally had to take her outside. She never wore that dress or skirt again. It was August and almost 100 degrees that day.
I felt like those small purple flowers, detached from their stem, aimlessly floating in an endless sea of black.
Read part 2.