I hate funerals. The gray sky, paired with the chilled rain, fit perfectly together. Family and friends, all gathered around a coffin, to grieve a loved one. It brought back memories; ones I want to forget. In the distance, I could see someone crying on top of the coffin. Most likely, Teresa’s father, Mr. Antson. Teresa was the most important person in his life, and she was taken from him in the most permanent way possible. Soon the coffin was being pushed into the rain, and those gathered around followed. I remained at the small willow tree at the top of the hill, watching as they grew smaller and smaller.
The rain slowly came to a stop, and the wind died down with it. I walked down the hill, taking a right, and then left. I kept walking until I came to a tombstone with an angel statue on top. The angel was nothing special, like most angel statues in the graveyard. She had a sad look on her face, with her arms spread out, waiting for a hug, and her wings folded in behind her.