May in May

Today T and I went to a country funeral in the village, the third in the farming community to die within a year and R was still of a young age which makes it even more tragic for his family.  There were about 500 people, half in the church and the rest outside sitting on chairs or standing behind in the churchyard with loud speakers relaying the service into the fresh air. The coffin arrived on a trailer pulled by a tractor and the church bells had their mufflers on.  The sheep and donkeys in the other side of the churchyard looked on. The widow's father had passed away a week after her husband.

Live is so fragile.