The second post I ever wrote 🙂
“I think there should be a funeral.”
He doesn’t look at me. Just sits there with his coffee cup staring out the window. Has his hair gotten greyer these last few days? It seems like it. If I didn’t know better I would think that new wrinkles had been digging their way through his face every day since we found out. “They say that it helps.” He doesn’t want a funeral. Why have a funeral if there isn’t a body to bury? It makes no sense really, lowering an empty coffin down into the ground. “The neighbours will expect there to be something.” His hands are shaking I haven’t noticed it before, but they are. His large, old hands, shaking as if he was just a child. “They won’t understand if there is nothing,” I struggle with the last word. Nothing.
He turns towards me. Sighs. A long sigh…
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