I came back for my sister’s funeral, I haven’t spoken to her since I left; I haven’t really spoken to anyone since I left. It’s only now that I treasure every moment I had with her, every word I said to her and every word she said back. Her son came to pick me up from the airport, the whole trip back to the house was silent; not a single word was spoken, I could only hear the gravel from the road flick up under the tyres. Funerals here were different to funerals in England, it looks like the whole town was here! As I stepped inside the familiar home I once knew, I could hear the clatter of plates and bowls and the chatter that seemed endless. I came for the funeral and a funeral she had indeed, a good four hundred people showed up, I can’t
