I ironed the shirt I will wear to identify my brother

Dear Delyara, The police called at 9:17 tonight. They believe they found my brother. They need a family member to identify the body in the morning. I have not slept. Instead, I ironed a white shirt. I do not know why clothing matters when I am going somewhere no person should have to go. I chose white because my brother hated when I wore black to family events. Then I realized that if it is him, I will be wearing white when I learn he is truly dead. If it is not him, some other family will receive the call. I ironed the sleeves twice. My wife watched from the doorway and did not stop me. My brother has been missing for seven months. We have imagined him in hospitals, prisons, another country, living under a different name, angry with us, ashamed, alive. Tonight, the possibilities have narrowed to one cold room and one question I am expected to answer by looking at a face that may no longer look like the person I remember. The shirt is hanging from the wardrobe door. It is perfectly pressed. I wish there were one task equally simple that could prepare me for tomorrow.