April 10th 2003 – Saying Goodbye

The boy was only eleven years old. But he already had terrible memories of the hushed room. It was his second visit in less than a year. The carpet was a warm, delicate pink. It struck him as an incongruous colour given the room’s purpose. Tom was sitting on his own at the end of the long wooden bench. He was keeping his eyes down. He was leaving looking up for as long as possible. Raised up in front of him he knew he would see the polished wooden box containing what was left of his grandmother. Until the last three months all his memories of her were fond ones. Then, one day just after the turn of the year, she had been devastated by the sudden death of his granddad. A massive stroke had taken his life within two hours.

The loss of her lifelong partner of over forty years had done for his Gran. Despite the boy’s best efforts she had just wasted away. And his mother had been no help at all. She was even more pissed than usual. Used the death of her father as an excuse to step up her weekly units. No time to help him out trying to keep his Gran going. He smelt his mother sit down next to him. The stale smell of tobacco was wreathing her clothes. The local vicar said a few words. Just general crap really. He’d never even met Tom’s grandmother. Then the music started and the coffin slid slowly out of view.

The boy sighed. It would just be him and his mam now.