From Halloween to Church theatre productions, I have creatively dressed others, and have been proudly perfecting that talent over the past few years. Yesterday, by default, I was assigned the "ultimate" dressing job: shopping for an ensemble for a dead woman to wear in her coffin!

Over the weekend, the 95-year-old cousin of my husband's grandmother passed away. My husband served as her trustee, and beyond paying her bills and other duties, he made a point of visiting her weekly in the nursing home, hoping to provide some comfort and companionship.

 Katie was from "the old country" and spoke with a charming Irish brogue until the day she died. My only recollections of her were from occasional extended-family gatherings, where she'd be certain to utter "God luv ya'" in place of "thank you" – especially after a few rounds of Vodka on the rocks. I first met her when my husband and I began dating and I was introduced to his Dad's side of the family in their Northside Chicago enclave. Despite a mild-mannered appearance, Katie broke into an impromptu chant of the "Great Amen" and seemed annoyed that no one joined in with her…so she switched to an "Alleluia!" hoping to get a more enthused response. No one took the cues, although each of us attending to her drink orders made certain to water them down considerably.

At the time, widowed and more or less alone in the world save for these distant relatives, she resided in a senior citizen apartment complex in Des Plaines – across the street from what was an exceptionally cheesy singles bar with a Key West theme.

I found it amusing when this frail, elderly Irish gal explained to me that each afternoon she'd somehow make her way, cane in hand, over to the raucous bar for happy hour. This nightclub was called "Lime Rickey's" but she referred to it as "THE Lime Rickeys," as in, "You know, dear, I go to The Lime Rickeys."

Fast forward to yesterday. I headed to a local department store to find a sedate yet tiny dress or suit to clothe Katie for her wake. She was very tiny when she passed away so I contemplated child's size as I thought even a 2 petite would be too large. I knew she didn't wear bold colors, so I considered that black really might not have been her choice. In the junior's department I spied a basic tan knee-length skirt in a size 1 – perfect! All I needed was to coordinate a jacket or even a nice blouse. While still in the teenage-oriented juniors department, something drew my eye to a top that made me giggle aloud: a fitted tee with large Playboy logo on the chest! I thought, that might have been appropriate for her "Lime Rickey's" days… but it wasn't exactly the statement she would want to make in the wake chapel.

Frustrated with the loudly-printed and boobaliciously low-cut tops in the juniors department, I moved on to petites, a.k.a. the Old Lady department. I hit paydirt: hidden amongst the appliquéd sweatshirts was a sweet fitted blazer in a tan tweed and a knit sleeveless shell for underneath, both of which coordinated beautifully with the skirt. For "foundations" I chose  a full slip in the smallest size I could find and some pantyhose. I knew I had some conservative black pumps in my attic to donate to the cause, as well as an extra strand of faux pearls for a ladylike effect.

I know that the funeral home who is handling her "preparation" does fantastic work with hair and makeup; I hope my wardrobe selections match up to their artistry.