I didn't cry.
When I sent Angel to hell, I cried as hard as I thought was possible.
When mom died, I learned I could cry harder.
But now, I don't cry.
I simply stand as if rooted to the spot, staring at a gravesite that might as well be empty. She's not there- she'll never be there, trapped in a wooden box for all eternity. That coffin just houses a body she inhabited for a bit.
Angel showed up for the funeral, as well as Wesley and Cordy, and the black man and skinny girl who snuck out five minutes before the ceremony started.
He came up to me after, tried to hug me. I slipped out of his arms- I don't need him to comfort me.I stopped loving him long ago, even before Faith came back.