I went to my friend Jill's mother's funeral today.
Twelve lines in a newspaper death notice - I counted them - and a gathering of your closest friends in a random room for an hour and your life is done.
Doesn't seem like enough. All that life lived. All of those memories.
Who thinks they are special?
Jill's now a little worried about her father.
"I just hope he gives me a little time to get over mum's death," said Jill as she got out of the car the other night. "I hope I've got some time."
You see, Jill's father now believes he has done his job. He nursed Jill's mother through her illness, he's earned a sizeable sum of money to leave to his two daughters, he now believes his job is done. His adored wife of many years is dead, he's now living with Jill and he's heading towards the wrong end of eighty.
"What do you think is going to happen?" said Jill.
Jill's now a little worried about her father.
"I just hope he gives me a little time to get over mum's death," said Jill as she got out of the car the other night. "I hope I've got some time."
You see, Jill's father now believes he has done his job. He nursed Jill's mother through her illness, he's earned a sizeable sum of money to leave to his two daughters, he now believes his job is done. His adored wife of many years is dead, he's now living with Jill and he's heading towards the wrong end of eighty.
"What do you think is going to happen?" said Jill.
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