Cortège

Slowly walking beside the little old woman, I saw her strength and dignity, holding her hand I felt her love and gazed upon the carriage carrying you to rest, Papa. I tried to ignore them, Papa, like you taught me, I tried to walk with my head high knowing it would please you, but their voices were like poison darts, each one piecing my skin and filling my veins with venom, I could feel it boiling and bubbling inside me and thinking what the hell is it doing to her, the woman you loved - their mother. Then anger, I couldn't stop her pain, Papa, I didn't have you to tell me what to do, so I just held her hand a little tighter and whispered the first of the daily 'I love you, Nain!' and I will say that with pride until I die.