Just a moment

It was her and I standing there watching a service like a bunch of outsiders. The box sat in the pit but could still be seen, and everyone stared with their own thoughts. The clouds overtook the sun and the leaves were falling in an almost cliché way. The hand that was in mine was strong yet fragile, and she thought her mourning was over. His song came on; it was theirs at this point and his soul seemed to rise up and sing to her. The reality sank in and her lasting strength caved into my shoulder. The crowd turned almost surprised; who was she? And his ghost grabbed her hand as the sun came out to dry her tears and they sang together “I did it my way.”

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