The heavens cried with us as we said goodbye to my friend Jack at his graveside today. His ashes were buried in the family plot and the sight of his mother stood there trying to be brave, was crushing. She looked immaculate. And broken.
She invited us to speak and looked at me, but I couldn’t. I am not brave. I wouldn’t be able to stem the tears if I spoke about Jack and why he meant so much to me.
He has such a warm, garrulous family. They are grieving his loss, yet at the same time, there was laughter at his wake today. A lot of alcohol was consumed and the hospitality was faultless. I’m not sure I would have the strength to put the kettle on if my only two children had died before their time.
As I am writing this, Jack’s mum has just texted to thank my husband and I for coming all that way to say goodbye to her son. All we did was take a plane. Nothing given the circumstances.
I kept seeing Jack in my mind’s eye today. I had imaginary conversations with him. He was pleased with the turn out. He assured me that he was looking out for his mum. He is not suffering any more. He is happy.
I am in the departure lounge and my husband is sat opposite me ordering pizza for our teens back home. Life goes on for some of us. We are the lucky ones.
I treasure my life.