JOSIE
I sighed, fighting back the tears as I touched my mother's urn one last time. An elegant vase of jade and pearl, with delicate, iridescent hues, in the colours of the nature she so much loved.
I'm sorry, I whispered. I'm sorry I couldn't come home. That I couldn't say goodbye one last time.
A hand rested gently on my shoulder, warm and comforting.
"Let's go," my grandfather murmured, his voice strained and swollen. "Come on, sweetheart. Let the priests do their work."
I tried - really tried - to pull my hand away from the cold urn that contained what was left of her, but ...
"I can't," I whispered, my voice broken. "I can't leave her ..."
I didn't even have time to say goodbye ...
My grandfather hugged me, brushing my hair with a kiss. "Her life ended a long time ago, J
