I held her hand as we entered the church. in My creative writing

I held her hand as we entered the church. Her high heels clipped along the floor as we made our way to the pew nearest the pulpit. Church was not a comfortable place for me; I had long ago felt that there must not be a god and I think she felt the same way. In fact, I was pretty sure her dad felt the same way too - which made it so strange that we should be saying goodbye to him here. As we walked up the aisle I looked around at the gathered mourners. The back few rows were full of people I didn't recognise; professional mourners, perhaps, or the homeless, looking for shelter on this wet morning. Huddled in the middle were his friends, people I had known once upon a time. He'd managed to fall out with everyone he knew, one way or another, and it had been a challenge to get anyone here at all really but once they heard the news the friends were keen to support us. Finally we reached the head pew, where his mother was seated, sobbing quietly. I knew I should feel sorry for this woman, who had endured so much of his wrath during his lifetime, but I couldn't help feeling angry with her for the way she had cut herself off from his children. They should have known .... they should have been the first to know.

A door at the back of the church opened and closed with a bang, suddenly caught by a gust of wind. We'd had a lovely summer so far, the days sunnier and warmer than we've come to expect. I should have guessed, though, that the day of his funeral would be stormy; it matched his personality. I watched as the vicar - a rotund man who was balding like a monk, the harsh spotlights shining off the top of his head - made his way to the pulpit. This was wrong, so wrong. He would never have wanted a vicar to be the one to wish him farewell. I heard a sob from my daughter as she spotted the coffin being carried through the door by four pallbearers. It said something that none of his friends were willing to take on that task. As they walked up the aisle one of the men slipped, fell briefly, the coffin slipping from his shoulder. I struggled to stifle a laugh ... how fitting would it be if this escalated into a farce? Everything about his life had been a farce, from our initial meeting when he made out he was some sort of Mr Charming, to his early death, kept from his own children in such a cold and callous way.

Somewhere at the back of the church an organ burst into life and began to play All Things Bright and Beautiful. A childish hymn for a childish man. It struck me that The Lord God would not have wanted to make this particular man - this beast of a man who had hurt everyone who came near him. He had systematically betrayed and upset his friends and family till the only person who remained loyal to him was his mother - and look at her now! She was sitting there all alone, because she was the only one who seemed unable to see what he was capable of. The only one who couldn't see what a monster he was. And of course she had chosen the hymn. Who else would have selected something so innocent?

Finally the coffin reached the top of the church and was laid on the slab. On the slab ... how many times had I pictured him there? Once I thought that was the only way I would ever escape from the nightmare that was our life together. But now, as I imagined him lying in the coffin, his body emaciated through cancer, I realised that finally it was over. He couldn't hurt me any more. He'd taken me in with a promise of love and protection and had systematically destroyed me, a bit at a time. He had smashed my confidence, destroyed my life and removed me from everyone who cared for me ... but I had won. I was the one who was alive and enjoying life. He had wasted his; wasted every opportunity he'd had to love and be loved. And while his children would miss him, for sure, he wouldn't be around to taint their lives or to make them feel guilty any more.

As the curtains closed around the coffin I made a promise to myself. From today on I would forgive him his sins and make the most of living my life free from fear. Farewell, my friend. I hope not to see you on the other side.