A funeral #ASMSG #nov

This Saturday morning we went to a funeral, Princess and I.
For me it was our first “official” act as a couple, Princess did not agree and found attending to family parties an official act too.  Well, it is not all that important so I gave the matter a rest.

Her brother-in-law’s mother had passed away and if I remember well I’ve only seen her once. It was important for me to attend this service, mostly because I want to be at Princess’ side and also because over the time I have grown fond of her parents, two sisters and a brother and a hand full of children.

I like Princess’ brother-in-law very much, he is a very kind guy, rough but with a heart made of gold. Yes, comforting him by simply being there was very important for us both.

The service was not held in a church but in the funeral chapel of an undertaker’s business. Everything was well organized except for some problems with the sound system.

Of course there was a priest too. It was an old man, huge and intimidating. White hair, a pronounced nose, heavy eyebrows and dark peeking eyes set in a face that seemed chiseled out of stone he had the looks of a wise Indian Chief who has seen it all. Without judging and without being certain skin tone and structure gave me the impression this man has seen lots of bottles.

Like always on such occasions the music sucked and chosen in function of making people feel even sadder than they already are.

We held hands, Princess and I, and I noticed she had some difficult moments and I guessed it had to do with her personal memories.
Hell, it was also hard for me, all these recollections. I had accompanied my father, mother, grand parents and best friend, and with them other people I had liked and who had meant something to me on their last trip.
It is also on moments like this one knows that on a day…

When we left the aula Princess and I hugged and shook the hands of the deceased next-of-kin. Over the years I have learned that a firm handshake and a consoling tap on the shoulder works best. There are simply no words to take grief away so one had to rely on body language.

We drove to Princess’ parents house where we sat around the dinner table, her mother, one of her sisters, her brother and his wife and kid, simply enjoying each other’s company.
The homemade tomato soup with meatballs was simply delicious.

We chitchatted and I enjoyed talking with Princess’ brother very much. He is a swell guy, sensitive and funny and, like me, old school.
I felt great and warm hearted and safe, surrounded by these people I have come to like, to appreciate, to trust. Maybe one day the will even consider me family.
Oh yes, I would like that so very much and I would be honoured.

Later on we drove back, Princess and I.
She smiled, my Love, when I missed two junctions as I had forgotten I had to drop her at home.
Her home and then I had to go to mine.

Fortunately I’ll be picking her up this evening. Salsa course, maybe a movie at home and then we’ll go to bed and I will take her in my arms, my Love, and travel through the night.

Holding and protecting Princess.
Loving Princess.
For ever.
And one day.

Yellow and a spot of light on a churchyard