Her kid was running around everywhere. Wild eyed, wild haired and as of yet untamed by society he goes up and down the pews. Right down the centre shaking some toy, I don’t know what exactly. I’ve seen this kid around before, just around town, sometimes with his mum. She would hold him up and say quite proudly, ‘I made this!’ beaming better then anyone I’ve ever seen. Anyways, here goes this kid right around again. I’m in a corner seat at the back and down this kids goes around the like he’s some kind of race car driver. Hell’s Bells lets settle this kid down. Course I miss reaching for this kid. His uncle isn’t far I could have brought him up, but I missed, he is good at not getting caught. Just like his mum now that I think about it. I try to get back to what the pastor was saying. Something about obedience. Little late for that now.

Beside me is one of the nurses around town and she is a real sweetheart, wrinkles from smiling so much and the kindest eyes. Another auntie not far either who is just as good. Thank god because burying a friend is miserable. You can hear people mourning from outside the church, wailing, moaning, crying. But if you think about it, how cold a funeral be any good to anyone if it was happy? If it was happy how could any of us grieve? I think the worst thing about how we all decided to get along is that somewhere along the line no one was allowed to be anything other then good anymore. I think the Russians got it right. If you feel miserable, then just let it be so. If you are depressed then be depressed. Instead we have to hop ourselves up on caffeine and energy drinks and endless slop injected intravenously in a twisted endless dopamine spiral so long and so heinous that stopping can kill you.

Her mum is at the casket. I know because I can hear her again. You wouldn’t think crying can be so guttural, so animalistic until you’ve heard it. Jesus its like a wolf crying and now the kids are crying too and the whole pack is going and I didn’t notice but I am too. I was given a tissue. Thank god for the good ones. Somewhere between the fatigue, the overtime and loneliness, the emotional overture was too much. Its not my kid, its my friend and now I have to go. I have to go back to work regardless. A good excuse. I’ll see them all again shortly.

I’ll miss her.