You think, that I don't even mean....

After my joy of yesterday, today as a result of the euphoria was far more sombre.

I realised as I made my light headed way to bed last night, that my overwhelming joy at the world was down to the chemicals in my head performing that mad dance which results in my brain shutting down shortly after.

I woke this morning with a blinder of a head ache, and took painkiller and settled in for another hours sleep. I had a funeral to attend, and I was not going to miss it.

I dragged myself from my bed an hour later, and stood in a cold shower, and took another couple of pills. I drove up to the cemetary, and wandered up and down the rows, looking at the headstones, and the illusions of grandure imposed on some people after their death.

I'm not sure I like this practise of photographs embedded in tombstones now. I far prefer the old-style family grave stone, with as many names as possible engraved into the marble.

I was looking for an Aunty, and was about to head to my Grandpa's when I turned and spotted the funeral party approach. I made my way over to one of the two newly dug graves. I spotted my mum, and my lovely Aunty M, and made my way towards them.

Funerals are funny things. Once you have lost one of your own, someone else's funeral is never about their loss, it opens and releases the pain and the heartache that hides, but never quite goes away that was created the day of your awful memory.

This was a Daddy to four girls. And my heart broke for them, as it did for my Daddy. They were unbelievably composed and I was very proud of them. I wish I had been feeling better, and had been able to say something comforting to them. But there are no words enough to compensate the loss of a Dad.

Night Night Uncle L.