Small wanted me to read a book to him today at school – something that doesn’t happen very often. He chose What Colour Is Love? about an elephant, small and grey, trying to find out what colour love is. It somehow seemed apposite to my day as I’d spent much of it pondering whether I want to read at the funeral and if so, what I want to read.
Funerals, to my mind, are for the living. They are a way of coming together to grieve and start to move on. If the dead are still around then they aren’t in any form that gets any say in the matter, and so anything I read isn’t for Katrin, it’s for those she’s left behind. And it can’t be anything that would upset anyone, and it wouldn’t particularly be for me, I’ve said my goodbyes already.
Which is just a long winded way of saying, I don’t know. I don’t know what to read, I don’t know what to wear, I don’t know what I should help Big to wear. Small is no problem, he’s still determined to go to find out whether it’s different to grandfather’s funeral (which I can pretty much guarantee, though I doubt he’ll take my word for it). I’ve scanned poetry sites, looked for lyrics of songs, pondered trying to write something, and then given up on it all and watched the tennis and Criminal Minds.
Maybe if I sleep on it something will come to me?




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