Six Days Later

Every morning I wake early and experience a kind of quiet sadness. I think about the events of the previous day and I think about what I am going to do in this day. On Saturday and Sunday there was a lot to do. There were journeys to the airport, Matty's house to get ready, the 'lift' from Marrion's funeral parlour and the wake. Between Friday night and Sunday evening the family had all returned. My brother came back from Vancouver on Saturday afternoon after having left on the previous Saunday evening. On those two days the house teemed with people calling to pay their respects. It was tiring and it was good. There was a lot to do. On Monday we buried Seamus. His was the most beautiful funeral I have ever been to. Daddy would have been proud of us. And we were proud of him too. Afterwards we laughed among ourselves at how he was breaking new ground even at his funeral. I think I can safely say that he was the first man in the parish to have been carried to the chapel door on the shoulders of three Protestants and a Jew. Since then I wake every morning feeling this quiet sadness. And I try to fill my day with lots to do. Katy has returned to Norfolk butI still have Hannah with me. She goes back to Staffordshire on Saturday. Yesterday we sorted out the kitchen for the new house and today we'll be sorting out some of the flooring. It's better to be busy.