New Merlin Fic!
Sarah’s boy confused her. He was oddly deep for a four year old. He had the vocabulary of at least a ten year old, which she put down to making him watch QI when he was still unable to crawl away from it. He was obsessed with the colour red, which she hoped was expressing a large capacity to love, rather than a large love of blood. And once he managed to catch a squirrel. (She wasn’t worried about the last one, he was obviously very in tune with his surroundings and the earth.)
But he was still a four year old, and so she was wary of taking him to the funeral with her. But she had no other choice. She couldn’t miss Bill’s funeral, and there was no-one who she trusted to take care of her son who wasn’t going to the funeral.
And so she dressed him in a miniscule suit and sat with him through the service, which he spent staring at the ceiling of the chapel, and then led him outside to the graveside.
She felt him still as the coffin passed them, his eyes no longer following the birds and the leaves flying above their heads, but the simple wooden shape that had not changed in design for years.
Despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken since before the service began, when she had asked him to be quiet, he fell silent now. His body language was different. His arms were still at his side, but now it was out of respect.
But her eyes were fixed to the coffin as well, the footfalls of the men carrying the wooden box with Bill inside, the hole they were heading towards.
And white flowers were handed out, to throw onto the coffin, and even Sarah didn’t notice her son threw a 2p coin rather than a rose, towards the place where Bill’s head lay. And she stopped paying attention on anything but the vicar’s words.
And she found him, five minutes after the service was over and everyone had disappeared to the reception and she would not be noticed running through a graveyard, sitting behind a very large tombstone, picking at the grass.
She crouched down in front of him. “Why are you sad?”
“Because he died.” He answered, monotone.
“But, sweetie, you didn’t know him”
“So? He still died. That’s sad.”
“Sweetie, he was happy, he died in his sleep. He was ready to go.”
His head snapped up and he looked at her, angry. “NO! No-one is ever happy to die! No-one is ever ready! Just ‘cos he was sleeping doesn’t make it any less sad!”
He stood up and wiped his hands, which were covered in grass stains and mud, down his new trousers, and for once Sarah didn’t scold him, just walked behind him as he stormed his way to the reception.