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Everyone approached me with somber faces, some that also showing marks where tears had travelled. One by one they clasped my hands, offering their sympathies.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"My condolences."

"You poor thing."

What about him?

I didn't want the sympathy. I wanted people to think of you, the one lying in that foreboding black casket. You were the reason we were all standing there in our darkest clothes, surrounded by monuments of others who had long since passed.

A faint roll of thunder could be heard in the distance, and I lifted my eyes to the ashen sky. The sun hid her face from us, and not a single sliver of her light broke through the thick grey clouds.

My face held no emotion as I gazed back at the sarcophagus. You had always risked your life for others, but no one had granted you the same favour.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that someone had to succumb to the very fate they had rescued so many from.

The Grim Reaper has no mercy... He feeds off heartache and pain, and wields the darkness freely. Why, though, had he chosen you? A life, so bright and full of energy, now snuffed out like a candle in a summer evening breeze.

I stepped towards the grave. The coffin was waiting to be lowered, never to be seen again; waiting to be swallowed into the final darkness of this life. Others had already passed by to say a prayer or lay a flower on the dark wood.

I watch as you slowly began to drop deeper and deeper into the grave, until you reached the earthy bottom. The belts and iron rods were removed, and I bent to retrieve a fist-full of dirt from the pile nearby. As the damp soil fell from my hands and onto your final resting place, it took a piece of my shattered heart along with it.

Only then, as the rain began to descend from its grey home, did I allow my anguish to spill from my soul.

No longer under the sympathetic gaze of a throng of people, I sank to my knees, my ebony hair sticking to my neck and the rain trickling down my skin.

I was utterly lost.

Empty.

       
Alone.

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