A lost sock obituary The Thin Black Dress Sock

The Thin Black Dress Sock was bought at a train station kiosk in Rotterdam on the morning of a funeral in 2015. At seven o'clock that morning D. had found that every dark sock in the apartment had a hole in it.

It was thin, black, and slightly shiny, and it did the job. Over the next eight years it served at four more funerals. It also attended one christening by mistake, which D. still thinks about.

It was never comfortable. It was never meant to be. It was the sock you wear when the day is not about you, and it understood that better than some of the people in the room.

Its partner was never quite as good. It bagged at the ankle and had a loose thread that would not stay in. At more than one service D. spent part of the eulogy thinking about the thread, which is not how anyone wants to remember anyone.

In December 2023 it went into a dark wash with a black shirt. The shirt came out. The sock did not. D. has a theory that it is still in the shirt somewhere, in a sleeve or behind the collar, being correct about the dress code. The shirt has been worn twice since, and D. has not checked.

Funeral arrangements

None. It had been to enough.