The air hangs heavy, thick with unspoken grief and the scent of lilies. Stacey, a woman visibly fractured by loss, finds herself on the precipice of a moment she dreads – the final farewell to the man who was the axis of her world. The weight of her sorrow is palpable as she speaks to someone unseen, her voice thick with unshed tears. A simple offer of comfort, a promise of a shared bacon sandwich, hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the monumental absence that now defines her existence.
A quiet defiance flickers within Stacey as she declares her intention to stay away from the impending procession. She clings to the fragile hope that as long as she makes it to the funeral itself, her absence from the earlier ritual will somehow be less significant. But beneath this outward resolve lies a deep-seated turmoil, a struggle to reconcile her desire to retreat into the comforting oblivion of her grief with the inevitable necessity of facing this finality.
A wave of resentment washes over Stacey as she directs her blame towards Sean, perhaps a well-meaning friend or family member, for what she perceives as an ill-conceived attempt to care for her. This outburst reveals the raw edges of her pain, the feeling of being adrift and misunderstood in the suffocating embrace of her sorrow. The innocent gesture of her daughter, Hope, wanting to place her necklace on her father’s memorial, pierces Stacey’s heart, a poignant reminder of the love that permeated their family and the gaping void his absence has created. Stacey acknowledges her own duty to participate in this act of remembrance, yet her true desire is to simply disappear, to fast-forward through the agonizing ritual of saying goodbye.
A heart-wrenching admission follows: if her beloved were present, he would envelop her in a comforting embrace, his familiar words reassuring her that her happiness was paramount. This memory underscores the depth of their connection, the unwavering support and understanding that defined their relationship. However, a stark and sobering truth is delivered – perhaps by a concerned friend or family member – reminding Stacey that avoiding the funeral will not lead to happiness. It will only prolong the inevitable confrontation with her grief and the finality of her loss.
The scene shifts, the hushed atmosphere punctuated by a pointed remark directed at Stacey’s late arrival. “You missed it,” someone observes, their tone laced with a mixture of relief and disapproval. Lil, perhaps another family member, offers a fragile attempt at reconciliation, suggesting that Stacey’s presence now is what truly matters. But this sentiment is swiftly countered by a harsher voice, one filled with resentment and judgment. Stacey’s late arrival, compounded by her apparent intoxication after weeks of absence, becomes a flashpoint for long-simmering tensions within the family.
A plea for unity is made, a call for the fractured family to “pull together.” But Stacey’s response is laced with bitterness and a profound sense of disillusionment. “Were we ever even a family?” she questions, her words hanging heavy with the weight of past hurts and unresolved conflicts. A painful truth is then hurled at her, a brutal accusation linking her actions to the loss they are all grieving. “He loved you so much,” someone declares, their voice thick with emotion, “and you know he did. He loved you way before Ruby was here, and you ruined it, like you always do.” The accusations escalate, painting a harsh picture of infidelity and perceived moral failings. “Having affairs, selling yourself online – what kind of mother are you?” The onslaught continues, culminating in the devastating pronouncement: “You didn’t deserve him. You still don’t deserve him.”
Amidst the accusations and recriminations, a quiet voice of understanding emerges. “She was right though, Lil,” Stacey murmurs, her words barely audible above the lingering tension. A profound realization dawns within her, a belated understanding of the immeasurable value of what she has lost. “I didn’t know what I had till it’s gone,” she whispers, her voice choked with regret.
A gentle hand reaches out, offering a semblance of comfort amidst the storm of grief and accusations. “Stace,” a kind voice reassures her, “you have had some wonderful, happy, fun times together and shared a lot of love.” This acknowledgment of the joy and connection they shared offers a brief respite from the harsh realities of her loss.
Stacey’s thoughts turn to Martin, a figure of strength and guidance in her life. She laments his absence, recognizing his ability to provide the necessary push, the heartfelt encouragement to speak her truth. “It’s times like this that I really need someone like Martin making me a kick up the backside and telling me to speak from the heart,” she confesses, her voice tinged with longing. “That’s really hard to do when your heart is breaking.”
The full weight of her loss crashes down upon her. It is not just the loss of a partner, but the shattering of her family unit. “Not only have my kids lost their dad, the best dad that anyone could ever ask for,” she laments, her voice cracking with emotion, “I’ve lost my best mate, someone who knows me better than I know myself.” The depth of their bond is profound, their connection extending beyond romantic love to a deep and abiding friendship. “He saved me so many times,” she reveals, a hint of vulnerability in her tone, “and I just wish that in the end, I could have saved him.”
The reality of his absence is a gaping wound in their lives. “You’ve left a massive hole in our lives,” Stacey declares, her words a testament to the irreplaceable role he played. A raw and unfiltered declaration of love follows, a final acknowledgment of the profound impact he had on her existence. “I’ll never love anyone like I love you,” she whispers, her voice thick with a love that transcends even death.
In a poignant and symbolic gesture, the children offer a final tribute, a piece of their connection to their father. “And the kids thought… thought… thought… thought that this was a good idea,” someone explains, their voice filled with tenderness. “It’s… it’s from the allotment.” A small, tangible piece of their shared life, perhaps a flower or a vegetable nurtured together, is offered as a final act of love and remembrance. Stacey, her heart overflowing with a mixture of grief and gratitude, can only offer a tearful assent. “Okay,” she whispers, “yeah.” The struggle to say goodbye continues, a raw and heartbreaking testament to the enduring power of love in the face of unimaginable loss.
