burying the dead.

Liquorice black suits with white button-ups, tied together with a slender tie. Long black cherry dresses which hung just above their knees.

Funerals are the celebration of life, despite the despair and the solemn atmosphere. It's a place to share cherished memories you had with that person, to appreciate what they achieved in their time on earth.

To appreciate the difference they made on the people they met, the lives they changed and the legacy that they will leave behind.

After all, when you die, legacy is all you leave behind.

Abigails legacy was honourable, she gave love and acceptance to everybody she met, even those who didn't deserve it.

She brought two souls together, her library was the reason Angel and George ever met. Despite being gone, she still managed to give back love to people, passing on one of her most cherished things.

Her library.

Angel and George sat in silence beside each other at the ceremony, Angel's eyes trained on the casket at the front.

Despite almost a week passing, Angel was still in a state of disbelief. George had been there by her side throughout it all, the only one who had been at her side.

He hadn't known Abigail for long, though he had experienced losing somebody. He understood the grief she was going through, because he had been through it himself.

"Thank you, George," Angel disconnected her eyes from the casket, smiling softly at him, "For everything you've done,"

It was the first smile Angel had given him in days now, he had almost forgotten how much he adored it. Almost.

A smile like hers could never be forgotten.

"Of course," he tentatively reached over to Angel's lap, unclasping her hands to thread his own between them, "We'll get through this together, yeah?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand gently before trailing her index finger along the veins and tendons in his hand.

Angel had so much she wanted to say to him, but she didn't feel like talking. Everything had seemed fake to her these past few days, all a dream which she'd soon wake up from.

But, being there, at the ceremony, made everything feel real.

Angel had to accept the fact Abigail had died, that it wasn't just a dream. No matter how hard she tried to pretend it was.

A woman stepped up to the front of the dozen rows of chairs, clearing her throat gently until silence rang out across the crowd.

She looked similar to Abigail, though too old to be one of her children. Narrowing it down to her sister, Adeline.

She had spoken about her to Angel occasionally, not as often as she spoke about Martin.

"I'd like to begin by thanking everyone for coming to celebrate Abigail's life. Abigail was the most thoughtful and loving person I've ever known and I know many of you would agree,"

Angel's hands squeezed George's tighter as the ceremony started, her eyes softening at Abigail's teary-eyed family members around her.

She felt bad for not crying, since everybody else was. Was she heartless? Emotionless?

"In 1973, Abigail met Martin and they were married in 1982. They had three beautiful children who she loved dearly, Evelyn, Ethan, and Edward," Adeline gestured to the three adults sat on the front row, their shoulders shaking gently as they cried.

There was so much Abigail hadn't been able to tell Angel, she never got to tell her all about her family.

"This year, Abigail and Martin celebrate their 40 year wedding anniversary," Adeline wiped a stray tear from her cheek with her curled finger, "Unfortunately, neither of them are here to celebrate their love on that special day,"

Abigail always spoke about not fearing death after Martin died, that she knew he'd be there waiting for her.

She welcomed death, in fact. It was a dangerous trait for her to have, her love for Martin was much stronger than the force holding her down here with us.

However much they'd miss her, she was happier.

"The world is a sadder place without Abigail in our lives. But Abigail touched each and every one of us and has left us with memories we will cherish forever. Thank you,"

A gentle applause carried Adeline back to her seat, settling back down between her own children and loving husband.

Minutes later a hearse and two limos arrived at the graveyard, the family filed into the vehicles whilst the drivers loaded the hearse with the numerous roses. And Abigail's casket.

Abigail loved roses; they were red, she loved anything red.

George and Angel decided it would be rude to get into the limo alongside them, since all of the guests were all family of Abigail's or close friends.

They were simply just customers of Abigail's.

They both climbed into George's car, following close behind the limousines. The cars were touring around places meaningful to Abigail and her family, places Angel and George wouldn't know about.

The first road they went down was a friendly-looking neighbourhood, a large bundle of flowers were left on one of the door steps.

Abigail's house.

The Christmas lights she had spoken to Angel about were still hung around the border of her roof, following each curve of the gable roof.

Martin had put them up for their family years ago, though he passed away before he had the chance to take them down again.

Abigail didn't have the heart to take them down, despite the majority of the bulbs being blown.

"George?" Angel spoke, disconnecting her eyes from Abigail's front door to glance over at George, "Are you okay?"

In the midst of her grief, Angel had forgotten to check up on George. He had been looking after her every spare minute he had, yet she hadn't considered how he was feeling.

Angel had been silent for days, she had been in poor health. Seeing someone you love in such agony had to have taken a toll on him.

"Yes," he nodded, briefly turning to face Angel to flash her a soft smile, quickly looking back towards the road, "I am. Why do you ask?"

He was lying.

He didn't meet her eyes, nor was his smile as genuine as it always was.

"Is it Anastasia?" George's breath caught in his throat at the sudden mention of her, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked,"

The car went silent, turning a gentle corner to the next destination.

"How do you know about her?" he questioned, slowly following behind the second limousine, there wasn't many places to drive past since Abigail had moved here recently.

"Sapnap,"

"Fucking hell, Sapnap," although there was frustration in his tone, he huffed a laugh, he knew that Sapnap was terrible at keeping secrets, "What did he tell you?"

"Only that you dated, but he didn't tell me why you don't talk about her," Angel pulled her legs up onto the chair, holding them tightly to her chest, "I won't ask, I'm sorry,"

Angel had assumed something bad had happened to her, since nobody wanted to talk about her.

His body language told Angel he didn't want to talk about Anastasia, however curious Angel was.

"It's okay," he tentatively placed his hand on Angel's knee, brushing his thumb against the fabric of her tights, "I'll tell you about it later, okay? I promise,"

The car passed the ice rink, passed the café, passed Angel's apartment.

And finally, the library.

It looked the same as it always did, despite the solemn burden which loomed over it. The librarian who everyone adored, had died.

Bundles of roses had been placed outside the front of the store, enveloped letters tucked between blossoms and roses.

It wouldn't be the same without Abigail, but Angel would try to recreate the community Abigail had created. One day at a time.

They arrived back at the graveyard, six men dressed neatly in black gently grabbed ahold of Abigail's casket, balancing the wooden coffin on their shoulder blades.

They carried the coffin towards the pre-dug hole not too far away from the ceremony. Her grave was amongst dozens, her gravestone clean of moss and grime.

Angel didn't know what was worse, seeing a fresh gravestone or seeing an old battered gravestone.

Carefully, Abigail's casket was lowered into the 6 foot deep hole, settled in between dirt and gravel. She'd rest here peacefully, right beside her husband.

Martin's grave was to the right of Abigail's, the same gravestone as hers. His was wrapped in a scarf of moss, tiny chips in the curve of the stone.

A fine layer of snow was dusted across the top of their gravestones, snowflakes landing in the engravements carved into the stone.

They would be together forever, just like they intended.

Abigail's wedding ring was placed into a small jewellery box, Martin's ring already cushioned into the satin fabric.

In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.

this took 4ever & it's Not that sad But i tried!