Daisy’s POV
The funeral is heart warming, the celebrant talking about Felix as though she knew him personally, making reference to his life with Dot and the store that he loved so much. Through the whole thing, Dorothy doesn’t let go of my hand, her knuckles almost white as she stares at Felix’s coffin, tears rolling down her cheeks, tears that match my own, ones that I have ceased trying to stem because more keep falling each time I wipe them away.
We sing, hymns that talk of loss and finding light in the darkness, but I’m just mouthing the words, they are meaningless, as what light is there now?
Finally, the celebrant asks us to stand, indicating that Dorothy’s sister should lead the procession out of the room. As we walk past, Dorothy stops, her hand leaving mine and lifting to the p
