Raw grief clamped me to the spot and immobilised me. For me the sun no longer shines, birds no longer sing and all hope has evaporated. I felt I would never leave that place, just stay there, always, near him but not with him. The others were just blurs, not real, names and faces, all of us in collective despair. For a crazy moment I imagined what we might look like from above. I saw us as an image magnified on google earth, tiny black spots amidst chalky white stones, all meaningless from a far but so terribly important up close.

I wore his favourite, tight, low cut and black of course. I’d sprayed my body with the last birthday gift he’d given me – Angel; a scent, he said conjured up mystery when there was none.

My sister supported me as I swooned up against her.

“He loved you so much,” she whispered, “I know he did.”

As he was lowered into the earth, my body seemed to float away, separating itself from the pain. I was making a noise, long, purring sobs came from somewhere deep inside me and I rocked backward and forward with alarming confidence considering the height of my heels.

I blocked out the world and thought only of his face, his piercing hazel eyes, staring deep into mine as we held each close.

Aware I was being watched I looked up to see those same hazel eyes seeking me out. He was striding toward me, desperate now for my attention, I looked straight at him, my skin tingling in primitive recognition.

“How dare you come here!”

Before I had a chance to remonstrate, he took aim and fired.

“Haven’t you hurt my mother enough? Just go, now!”