I really hate burials.
It was almost funny at the beginning, the priest stumpfnled, coughed on every two words, and the music was really crap. Songs that don't mean a thing anyway.
When my ex-wife, her sisters and brothers said a few words about Eric, then it was not sh*t any more. He was only 51, didn't smoke, or drink, was on holiday and went for a bicycle ride with his kids, you know, the kind of things you really enjoy in the summer, and when back home, bang, first aid didn't save him, his heart stopped forever. That's not fair, really not fair.
I don't know why I'm writing this, probably because I feel so distraught, and lost, and I wanted to be alone tonight, but this is too much to bear when you're on your own, at times it's something I can't bear because I love the ones who are left, and I feel their pain because I love them and also because I know what it's like to loose a sister, or a brother too soon.
Well, life goes on.
And please, don't "pray" for me or anyone else: if there's a "god", I think that she/he has much more important business to deal with. Anyway...