The funeral

Leading up to the funeral was unbearable. My emotions were running wild. I was not ready to say goodbye. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I wanted Lyanda by my side for years to come. This, unfortunately was no longer a possibility. On one extremely emotional morning, I wrote a poem.

This summed up pretty much everything. I wrote from the heart, but hadn’t realised what i had written until I read it later that night. I visited Lyanda 4 times in total at the Chapel of Rest. I wanted to, i needed to. I didn’t want my last memory of her to be as I found her that morning. My last memory of her now is one where she sleeps peacefully.

I was designing the order of service. I had help designing the cover, it turned out exactly as I wanted it to. The poem was included inside the back cover. It was also read out at the service. Apparently, from what I was told afterwards, there wasn’t a dry eye anywhere.

Lyanda’s favourite colour is purple. I wore the brightest purple tie I could find. I told others I was wearing a purple tie. Most of the people there wore something purple too. I am sure she was liking the spattering of her favourite colour across the room.

For all the years we had been together, i always wore shorts, whatever the weather. I can count on two hands how many times I wore trousers or jeans. This was a bug bearer of hers, but became a long standing joke. There was speculation whether or not I would wear shorts to the funeral. This is after all how she knew me. I decided to wear trousers, for her, one last time. It’s a shame she wasn’t there to see it. I can only hope she was up there, looking down on me, laughing her head off at the sight of me in trousers.

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