Neilson’s POV:
The sun shone brilliantly, and the virescent color of the day under its glare was offensively bright and cheerful. It’s as if they conspire to show me how the world would go on without her.
It shouldn’t.
Everything should be as grey and dull as my emotions; it should be cold and damp with silent air. But the birds still sang, and the flowers bloom gracefully. I walk through the churchyard, wishing I would be as insubstantial as the shadows so that my insides might not feel so mangled.
Everybody is holding back the grief; tears flow steadily, silently down their immobile faces. There were words of farewell, although she is gone.
Words from the minister, speeches at the service bring a fresh onslaught of tears, well-spoken words, a tribute to her life and love,
