In the afternoon, there were church ladies in dark clothes and small colorless clouds of perfume, bearing food in Corningware dishes topped with aluminum foil, with their names discreetly etched on the bottoms, on strips of masking tape. There were sad hugs and cookies for a while, until Dad said there was something for the men to do.
“Preparations,” he said.
Thanks for the comments on Corningware. I haven't decided, but your input helps. Here's the paragraph I'm pondering, as it stands at the moment. The cadence needs work, and a verb in there somewhere couldn't hurt. Setup: a man raised on a farm remembers the day of his grandfather's passing.