Mourning Has Broken

Lance stared into the freshly dug small hole in the ground and despite being shallow he felt it could swallow him whole and send him to the firey pit below. It was raining hard but Lance felt it helped added to atmosphere, besides he could always say it was rain on his cheeks, he’d always taken funerals in his stride before and he couldn’t fathom why it had struck him so hard on this occasion.

“We know commit our her body to the ground,” said the Vicar finishing off a modified version of the sermon, “may she find company with all our fallen friends. Ashes to Ashes,  dust to dust.” With that the Vicar threw a small handful of soil onto the dainty coffin, shortly followed in turn by the rest of the mourners. The vicar hung back and joined Lance at the graveside and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok to grieve. What took her on the end?”

“She was hit by a bus which had suffered a blow out,” said Lance sadly. “Noone’s fault really, freak accident.”

“Always a shame though, how old?”

“Seventeen, she had a good long life.” Lance looked down at his companion, “they say they don’t understand but I think they do.he’s very aware of being alone and he knows she’s in the box.”

“I think so,” agreed the Vicar looking at the whimpering St. Bernard lying by the grave.




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