Funeral Cupcakes

Nancy died about two weeks ago, and just now our families are getting together to honor her. The past two weeks without this event felt wrong. There was no burial because she was cremated. Our families have been very close for the better of thirty years and I felt like I needed a funeral, even if it was an informal gathering just for us.
My mother asked me to make cupcakes for the occasion. Whether I was asked to make cupcakes because my cooking ability is weak or because there was an actual need for cupcakes at a funeral is still unanswered. I didn't really question it. I just made them. They were a box mix of yellow cake and chocolate icing. Nothing special. I felt, even cooking them, that Nancy would have hated that I was going to bring cupcakes instead of my original idea to bring Gouda and bread. She would have wanted something a little more upscale maybe.
So, tonight, uniced cupcakes and a jar of frosting in hand, I left my house and opened the trunk of my car. Alongside the snug plate of cupcakes I left my one key to our one car. And I shut the trunk. Yes, I did it. I left the funeral cupcakes in the car with my key and no way to get where I needed to go.
Wanting very badly to kick the car and very passionately yelling all kinds of profanity, we called the locksmith. Two hours and 125 dollars later I had officially missed the funeral.
I thought earlier in the day how it really didn't matter whether Nancy would have liked the cupcake idea. She is gone now. She can't say anything about it. And it's true. She can't. But she might be able to get me so frazzled that I lock my key in my car and inavertantly leave myself, with the cupcakes, at home. She's so tricky.