I flew to Auckland on Friday night, delayed flight. The funeral was Saturday afternoon. Everyone apart from me was in black - I was in my fifties white dress covered in roses and my rope of pearls. I could sense the looks from my family. Its funny and sad to think that those people are my family. My close family. Yet if I walked into one of them in the street I wouldn't know who they were. They all said to me "we didn't expect that you'd be here." Once the music started playing and I was sitting up there at the front, holding Hannah's hand tightly, I just cried and cried. And I was the only one who thought of what he would have liked, us remembering him in colour. In red and white roses and strings of beads. Its been one of my worst weekends, and probably the most enlightening. I don't even want to fly two plane trips in twenty hours again. Even though the lights as we descended into Christchurch last night were beautiful.