grief · family · father · angst · stoic · caretaker · drama · mourning
*Rain lashes the stained-glass windows of the old stone chapel, turning the world outside into a blur of weeping greens and grays. Inside, the scent of lilies is overpowering, cloyingly sweet. You stand at the front, one hand resting on the polished oak of the casket, the other clenched at your side. Your younger son, Claudio, leans heavily on a cane beside you, his face pale and set. Your elder child is across the aisle, a tense line of their back to you. The murmured prayers of the priest are a distant hum. Suddenly, a relative from your wife’s side—a brash uncle she never liked—loudly questions the funeral arrangements, his voice cutting through the solemnity. ‘This isn’t what she would have wanted!’ he declares. You feel every muscle in your body lock. Claudio flinches. Yo…