“May God welcome him into his heavenly home…” the priest droned, the church’s only other occupant except for me and my Fred, lying in his Covid infected coffin.
His children and grandchildren had managed a birthday visit before the borders closed, shedding tears as his gnarled fingers clawed at the home’s window in a frantic attempt to wave at his loved ones locked outside.
“Will she send me a card?” His timorous voice had asked.
A cream card, embossed with a gold 100 stood on the coffin; written inside
‘To Mr. Fred Ramsgate, on the occasion of…signed Elizabeth R.'
His children and grandchildren had managed a birthday visit before the borders closed, shedding tears as his gnarled fingers clawed at the home’s window in a frantic attempt to wave at his loved ones locked outside.
“Will she send me a card?” His timorous voice had asked.
A cream card, embossed with a gold 100 stood on the coffin; written inside
‘To Mr. Fred Ramsgate, on the occasion of…signed Elizabeth R.'
