This story has haunted me for the past week or so, maybe because I have just had another birthday and it makes one think of one's own mortality, and it wasn't one with a zero at the end! So I am sorry, but you might need tissues, I did while writing it. x

Warning: death of major characters.

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'Sacred to the memory of Genevieve Blake', Jean read the inscription, and further down the new dedication, 'and to her son, Lucien Radcliffe Blake, died February 3rd 1999, aged 90 years, beloved husband and father.'

The tears hadn't stopped for days, she hadn't slept; the bed was too big without him and cold without his loving arms around her.

The past twenty years since he had retired and handed over the practice to their son, Bobby, had been spent travelling, seeing friends and family around Australia. They had celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary repeating their honeymoon route in Europe, and after that had pottered at home, helped Bobby when he had a big case load, and played with numerous grandchildren. Now, he was gone. Quietly, without fuss, silently in his sleep after a heart attack.

Bobby found her at the graveside as usual, it was where she spent most of her time, and it worried him. Gently he lifted her from her seat on the ground and supported her to the car. He drove her home, made her some tea and settled her on the couch in the living room. His wife, Grace, was out collecting the children from school so all was quiet, too quiet for Jean.

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Jean sat on the ground looking up to the sky. Lucien had been gone three months, and it didn't get any easier.

Two figures approached her and held out their arms,

'Come on, sweetheart,' whispered Lucien,

'Time to go,' nodded Christopher.

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Bobby found her, lying on the grave in the warm afternoon sun.

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'... and also to Jean, beloved wife of Lucien, mother, grandmother and friend.'

'Remembered always.'

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I don't plan to stop writing Jean and Lucien or Frank and Alice or any of the others, hopefully more cheerfully, thought with plenty of angst. But this had to be written. Sorry.x