You Were Gone.

I never wanted to go, didn’t think I could. I wanted to remember you as you were, so full of life, a true character. But the family told me it was my duty, so I went.

I had no idea what to expect, I’d never seen a dead person before. I imagined some kind of scene from a horror movie, but I was wrong.

When you were alive you were everything to me, you were my crutch when things went wrong, you were my mentor who made me see the world as it truly was.

Advice? You had buckets of it, you saw things in a way that only YOU could and it all made sense to me. You always said with age comes wisdom.

So I went, went to see you, there in the undertakers. It was all very quiet, everyone was SO polite. I told the family that I wanted to be on my own, so I was.

And there you were, dressed in your favourite shirt, you looked handsome. But it wasn’t you, no it wasn’t you. It was the body that you lived in, but not you.

That’s how I got over it. By realising that it really wasn’t you laying there, yes it looked like you, but it was only meat laying there, you were gone.

Gone somewhere else, god knows where, but you were gone.

So when they put that earth upon you and everyone cried, I didn’t, because I knew it wasn’t you being covered, you were gone, long gone.