My mother and father were never religious when I was growing up.

“When you die, you die. There’s nothing more.” My father used to say and my mother simply nodded and smiled weakly. My mother used to be a strong Catholic but when she met my father she changed, he told her how all that talk of going to heaven was ridiculous and slowly she lost her traditional roots. My grandmother and grandfather however still were Catholics and whenever I went to their little thatched cottage on a Tuesday and Thursday night, we would read the bible and pray each night, although my parents never knew of this.

Ironically 21 years later, here I am, watching from above as my parents and Amelia attend my funeral.

It is hard, devastating to watch it as Amelia sobs into my mother’s arms, my fathers stern face gone sad. Flowers are places before everybody leaves, everybody expect Amelia, perhaps the person I dreaded leaving the most.