[Saturday - After the funeral - Muds]
The service was not terribly drawn out; the Tusspots had never been a very religious family and James hadn't wanted a funeral that didn't suit him. He was a simple man with simple tastes, and his funeral reflected that. It wasn't terribly well-attended, just as Stu had assumed it would be. James hadn't known many people beyond a small, close circle of friends; a few of his doctors and nurses from the clinic, family from England that could make the trip. A couple of people spoke, Stu sang a song, and while his voice had been soft and filled with tremors, he hadn't cried.
In fact, he hadn't cried through the entire thing. He just sat quietly, shoulders slightly hunched and eyes down, hands folded in his lap. Every now and again, he'd shift in his seat, but that had been mostly from his being uncomfortable in his suit.
After the service, most of people attending went to comfort Rose. Stu hung back, eyes still down and brow faintly furrowed.
Now he leans against a tree, pale and quiet. He still isn't crying. His hair has grown rather shaggy and sometimes he pushes it out of his lowered eyes, but other than that, he's quite still. Almost blank. Stu has never been very good with funerals.
In fact, he hadn't cried through the entire thing. He just sat quietly, shoulders slightly hunched and eyes down, hands folded in his lap. Every now and again, he'd shift in his seat, but that had been mostly from his being uncomfortable in his suit.
After the service, most of people attending went to comfort Rose. Stu hung back, eyes still down and brow faintly furrowed.
Now he leans against a tree, pale and quiet. He still isn't crying. His hair has grown rather shaggy and sometimes he pushes it out of his lowered eyes, but other than that, he's quite still. Almost blank. Stu has never been very good with funerals.