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I am not praying.

Perhaps I should be; it is a funeral, after all. Isn't one supposed to be with God here?

Ah, well. I have spent the better part of the last twenty years not praying and to start now would be useless.

I am not crying.

I know I should feel something. I know I should realize how beautiful the service is and I know I should realize that the world has not ended. But that is utter bullshit, because the world has ended. All I feel is emptiness. A dull gap in my mind where emotion is supposed to be.

I watch as they take her out of the church. I do not follow. I cannot follow. I cannot do anything but stand here and stare, lest I burst into tears and then can’t stop.

I am empty. I feel nothing but tired. Tired of illness, tired of death, tired of life.

Because she is gone.

And I’m alone.