Colours of the black and white sunset

Daddy's funeral wasn't a nice affair. Everyone was dressed in black. Everyone. Even me. Even though I knew that Daddy hated black. He loved colour. Scarlet, gold, Bronze, Magenta, Maroon and Turquoise. Martha knew that but she still wore black. I knew that but I still wore black. A man (wearing a white shirt, black tie and black trousers) stood up. He was Daddy's brother. He was smiling. It unnerved me. You're not supposed to smile at a funeral. He started reading about some drivel from his childhood, a swing, a river. Daddy didn't like his childhood. I suddenly sat up with a jolt. Someone had poked me in the back. I stood up, a piece of paper clutched in my hand. Martha gave me a nod of encouragement ad I made my way forward to the stand.

 "Darling Daddy" I began "Daddy darling." then I stopped. What was the use in trying? It wasn't like he could tell what I was saying. I got down again and sat in my seat. A whisper ran around the room. It was a beautiful day. But we were trapped inside. Daddy wouldn't of liked that either. I stood up again, my crumpled speech left on my seat. I went to the window, flung the heavy, dark curtains aside and opened it wide, letting the sunlight stream in, letting the breeze blow through my hair. I sighed softly, inhaling the sweet scent of summer. Daddy liked summer. I went back to the stand without my paper, closed my eyes and spoke the few short words that had been running through my head;

 

Our time together was short

like the sun before it dips behind a cloud

 

And that was that... I went back to my seat. Martha tried to catch my eye but I avoided her gaze. I thought of all the ways Daddy would have change his funeral. I got lost in my own world, walking back through the memories. I nodded slowly to myself then I realised I was crying. It felt good to cry. Daddy always told me never to hold back tears and I sure wasn't holding back now.

 

Author's Note

It took me a while to remember this. I'm not too sure about it. I wanted to give a small insight to what should have been a very personal and private affair, but wasnt. Thanks for reading, im 14

Reviews

[SRMarx]

This is poignant and articulate. Grief can be so complicated sometimes.