Last rites
May 3, 2016 16:44:01 GMT -5
Post by Paul Turner on May 3, 2016 16:44:01 GMT -5
The air was heavy and somber as the procession marched along the isle. One of the pallbearers was the spiting image of the picture adorned with flowers near the altar. He put on a strong face and performed his duty, but there was something else. He didn't grasp it yet. The man in the casket was really dead. He was gone. Mostly.
The funeral proceeded. Grieving friends and family gathered to pay their last respects. Some knew him well, others came out of obligation. It was easy to pick them apart; Paul even made a game of it he played in his own head. It's not that he was heartless, it was that he was growing numb. For a time he stared off to the side, seemingly in a daze. Anyone looking word have marked him as a point for the 'obligation' side. As the ceremony was coming to an end, he wrote a few quick lines in his notebook and payed his respects to the family. They had too much on their mind to question who he was.
After everyone left, he sits in the back pew and goes over his notes.
The funeral proceeded. Grieving friends and family gathered to pay their last respects. Some knew him well, others came out of obligation. It was easy to pick them apart; Paul even made a game of it he played in his own head. It's not that he was heartless, it was that he was growing numb. For a time he stared off to the side, seemingly in a daze. Anyone looking word have marked him as a point for the 'obligation' side. As the ceremony was coming to an end, he wrote a few quick lines in his notebook and payed his respects to the family. They had too much on their mind to question who he was.
After everyone left, he sits in the back pew and goes over his notes.