A sombre gathering.

The parlour, had a faded green patterned carpet, its walls hung with a jaded cream fleck wall paper.
The room, scattered with ornaments gathered through years of travel, smelt old.
A wallnut cabinet with stained glass windows housed the best china and beautiful white linen table cloths.
The round table with its eight high backed chairs took centre stage in the room.
A six foot booming grandfather clock with a large gold coloured monocle face stood erect to the left side of a dull marble fire place.
This it would appear had not seen a flame for years, the crows saw to that.
The six inch nail embedded in the right side chimney breast wall, on it hung a black two piece pinstriped suit.
Jacket with wide lapels, trousers wide leg complete with turn-up.
Covered by the jacket a white shirt, its collar now faded, cuffs showing below the jacket sleeves, complete with gold embossed cufflinks.
To one side of this suit hung a shocking pink shirt with its butterfly collar and frilled cuffs, covered in dust and cobwebs.
Heavy red velvet drapes, drawn three quarter way shading any sun from entering the room.
A snapshot in real time of quaintness Jenny said, once she got her breath back.
Turning to me and taking my hand, softly she said, the sun setting and the moon rising were the things that would go on for ever, pain is ephemeral.
The priest said his beads, they placed the lid on the chestnut brown coffin.
In the cold of the night and soft drizzling rain we walked grandma to the church nearby.
Tomorrow following 10:00am mass she was to be buried next to grandad.
To add to the sorrow of the long day, the dimness of the night.
The shrill peal of the church bell, brought the demise of the departed to reality.
(c) Chris Black. March 2018.


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