RAIN – or At the Gravesite
So cold…. teeth chattering, bone numbing cold. Monotonous rain that dampened more than spirits. Trite and stereotypical for a burial. It must be around 40 degrees here at the most. So what’s the chill factor?
Why did She have to tell the minster to speak at the gravesite? Couldn’t the weather have changed somebody’s mind? Surely it’s not appropriate for the mourners to all end up with colds or worse. Bound to happen now.
Look at how miserable everyone is. Including Her. Someone ought to step in and end this mistake. Not me, oh no. I’m in enough trouble as it is.
By God, if they are staying, so am I. Never let it be said I wasn’t strong enough to remain.
OOOh, just had a rivulet run down my unprotected neck. Should have worn a turtleneck top. Or a scarf for Christ’s sake. I hadn’t any idea that we’d be stuck out here subject to the elements. There’s a lovely fire going back at the main house. Logs snapping and putting out loads of heat. I want to be in front of that.
She looks so good in black. Who am I kidding, She would look good in any color. So polished, so elegant. So composed. I don’t even see Her shiver. How is She immune to this cold? Maybe She has hidden warming packs in those Jimmy Choos. If I skipped lunch for several years, I could afford Jimmy Choos too. How come she isn’t sinking into the grass with those heels on?
My teeth are starting to chatter. The sermon, eulogy, whatever, must have stopped. The silence brought me back from my brain conversation.
Her mother just collapsed. Too chilled to stand probably. Maybe now we’ll be released from this torment.
Yes, “Amen.”