Prologue:-

I’d spent the day watching over those I loved.  I’d never meant for this to happen, to leave them so early on. Of cause, I never knew that it would be possible to watch over them and see their hurt and pain, their struggles to get through the day.  I remember when my Alfie died, how hard it was to get by, to sort everything out, even though all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry.  Thankfully, I had the help of my boys to organise his funeral, but it was still so hard, looking through folders of flowers and coffins, not fully registering that that would be where Alfie would rest for the rest of eternity.

When someone dies you can never fully mourn it until after the funeral, when all the guests are gone. There’s so much to do during those few days after they die that you don’t have time to think about the full extent of what has happened. People pass you giving you there condolences but the reason doesn’t really sink in. You say something nice, a thank you and such, back to them, but you can’t fully understand the reason for them saying those things to start with. It doesn’t sink in till afterwards, when there’s no more organising, there’re no more guest lists, flower picking, coffin selecting, just pure, unending pain and a great feeling of loss. That’s when you lose control and you begin to shake and break down, because they’re gone and you know it. There gone and they’re never coming back. You’ll never again tell them not to leave the oven on. You’ll never see them laugh at you for coming home limping from a new pair of shoes. You’ll never be able to spend another ordinary morning sitting on the decking eating toast and crumpets, talking about yesterday’s weather and reminiscing the first time you sat there, or when you did that funny thing when you went on your first date in town together.

Seeing it from this perspective is completely different. Seeing people mourning your death, not knowing you are right there next to them some kind of alternate plain, is quite fascinating yet also excruciatingly painful, knowing you can’t reach out and touch them, give them any form of comfort.

I know from watching over the family today that I was going to be cremated on Thursday. Though I’d never really mentioned it, I’d have much preferred to be buried.  Not that it really matters of cause. I was to be cremated in a dark wooded coffin with silver trimmings, a cross on top and a thick black lining. Not bad if I do say so myself. Then there was an absolutely beautiful selection of flowers. My daughters in law really have a knack for picking flowers.