![]() There’s a reason my father cut her off, after all. ![]() And indeed, she’d taken care of everything while I foolishly nodded along to everything she said. She patted my back and told me not to worry about a thing. In the days following my father’s sudden passing I’d been so grateful to have her with me. I look around me, my eyes settling on my grandmother. Instead, I’m standing in a graveyard that’s filled to the brim with people I barely even recognise. He would’ve wanted a simple ceremony with no more than a handful of people. My father’s belief in God died the day my mother did. ![]() Though I’m certain that it’s true I fail to understand how the priest would know that, considering that my father hasn’t set foot in a church in at least a decade. He tells us all how good of a person my father was and that we should rest assured because he’s without a doubt in a better place now. I stare at the priest who morosely preaches about loss, death and heaven. ![]() Thank you for being my number one fan and for believing in me when I fail to do so myself. ![]() For my husband, who has always supported me with every single thing I’ve ever done. ![]()
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