My father’s dentures were inside my coat pocket

Dear Delyara, My father died in hospital this afternoon, and on the bus home I discovered his dentures inside my coat pocket. The nurse had handed them to me in a small plastic container while explaining which office would issue the death certificate. I must have put them away without thinking. When the bus turned sharply, the container knocked against my keys, and I opened it beneath the yellow overhead light. There they were, the teeth he removed every night and placed in a glass beside the bathroom sink, the teeth that clicked when he became angry, the teeth my children found hilarious when he pretended they could speak without him. I nearly missed my stop because I could not stop staring. At home, my wife asked what the hospital had given me, and I said paperwork. I carried the container upstairs and placed it in the drawer beside his watch and wallet. Nobody tells you that death leaves behind parts of a person that are neither sacred nor disposable. Tomorrow, the funeral director will ask whether we want them placed with him. I do not know. They are not my father, but they once completed his smile, and tonight I cannot bear the thought of anyone treating them as medical waste.