Racing For Love

Chapter Forty Five

I am in Uncle Joe's office when I hear Jono's voice call out from the back door. I have intentionally lost myself in my task and I am currently surrounded by Joe's notepads and diaries. After finding his final notebook a few days ago, I have channelled my energies into sorting the office - there is a distance from the Uncle Joe I was dealing with at the end, and the pain of loosing the person I loved, and this is a job I have put off for long enough. Even through the pain, there's an immense comfort being surrounded by the familiar belongings - I find myself retreating into them and immersing myself in this part of his life. I stand and stretch - my legs feel stiff from sitting so long. Jono comes in, and I smooth down my skirt as I look into his eyes - they soften as they lock with my gaze.

"Annie, it's time." Jono says softly and as he takes my hand, he gently holds out something to me - I see the embroidered monogram of 'JS' on the clean fabric handkerchief - I bought these for Joe as a Christmas present years ago, and I am touched that Jono made sure I had an extra piece of Joe with me today. I quietly thank him before he leads me out of the house and towards the car waiting outside.

I have been dreading today, but as I saw the car, I smiled. Jono was driving Joe's famous vintage Aston Martin - the red paint gleaming, just as Joe had requested - well, almost - he had told me I had to drive it, but I knew that I wouldn't manage to do that with everything else today. Jono was more than happy to oblige and as we reach the main road, his foot goes down and the engine roars under the bonnet towards the church where the funeral is taking place.

I greet friends and colleagues from Joe's life, accepting condolences and warm hugs as people walk towards the church. Susan walked up, a tissue clasped in her hand as she greeted me - the pain of her loss etched on her face as it was mine - I recognise the solidarity in the grief we both feel.

The funeral director gently touched my arm and softly spoke to me as it was time for the procession to begin. Jono, Bucky and four other friends of Joes stood in solemn silence as they lifted the coffin into the air and entered the church. It was just me walking behind - the only remaining family of Joe Stephens, and I clasped my hands together in lieu of having anyone else to support me. A stoicism came over me - Joe deserved my strength in this moment.

I struggled to focus on the events unfolding in front of me - the vicar directed his sermon towards me, but I didn't hear any of the words as I tried to keep my breathing even and the tears from spilling. I sat in the family pew alone as Bucky began the eulogy - he had worked with Joe for many years, and some of his stories about him made me laugh out loud, which quickly turned into a sob. I pulled out the handkerchief, my fingers stroking the raised embroidery of Joe's initials. With my head bowed, I silently sobbed and then felt a warmth next to me. Someone reached out to clasps my hand, and another arm wrapped itself around my shoulders - both Kate and Jono joined me and their comfort offered the stability that I thought I no longer had without any family.

We exited the church as the immortal sounds of The Chain by Fleetwood Mac echo around the walls - another of Joe's requests that makes me smile. Kate remains by my side as we reach the graveside. The vicar continues his service as I stare at the plot next to Joe. My parents names catch in the sunlight, as the enormity of my loss threatens to overcome me again. I know that they would want me to put my efforts towards saying goodbye to Joe, so I try and focus on the vicar. Before long, it is time for me to commit Joe's body to the earth. I take a handful of soil - I know that it is time for a final goodbye but there are too many memories, too many moments in time that I am thankful for.

After the funeral is over, the intimate group come back to my home where there is a small wake. Joe had made all of the arrangements and we are greeted by caterers on our return - they hand me a glass of champagne and a plate with a selection of canapés. I don't really feel hungry, but I nibble at a blini with smoked salmon and caviar before Andrea Bianchi appears in front of me.