I picked out the venue for your funeral when I was fifteen. It will be a nice place, with flowers and trees outside. The building will hold grace in each note that the piano plays. People will reminisce about your early life and your childhood. They will ask for me to speak, which I will. I will choose my words carefully, as though I am disarming a mine field that the wrong word could set off.
When it’s over, I’ll dab my eyes once, but I will not cry. There is no need.
I have been mourning your death for years.
That gave me full-bodied chills. Excellent!
A profoundly sad and fatalistic story. Nice job.