Toons don't die.
This is a fallacy. Although their nature makes it particularly hard, Toons can die, and they can be killed just like any other person. It is much better to say that cartoons don't die in the same way that you might say films don't die - because someone somewhere will remember, even if everyone else forgets.
That said - Toons don't die like normal people. They know fading and Dip, but speak of physical illness and old age and the effects are lost on them. Toons don't get sick unless their role calls for it, and even then, they're only sick while filming and are right back to normal as soon as the director calls, "Cut!" Age is controlled in much the same way. If they need to be young for a role, they age down, and if they need to be old, they age up. It's all about what is best for the movie.
For this reason, it is better for Toons to not get mixed up in the affairs of humans. Whereas Toons do not get sick or age, humans can all too easily, and where Toons rarely die, humans often do. It is hazardous on both ends - a human watching a Toon stay perpetually youthful and healthy; a Toon watching a human grow old and die.
Human memory only lasts so long, but Toon memory lasts forever.
Over the years, Jessica's wardrobe increased. She had outfits for everything - her typical red dress for all occasions, a forest ranger uniform when she needed to put out fires, even a nurse's outfit for the occasional check-up - but she'd never yet had a reason to wear this dress. One hand ran down the ebony lace and silk and for an instant she could only stare at the dress, the gloves, the veil.
Then she gave a terse nod, if only to encourage herself, and closed her eyes. She had this dress for a reason, and even if she never expected to wear it, sometimes life...well, she wouldn't say surprised her because a surprise denotes something good, and this was anything but-
Perhaps shocked was the right word. Shocked, stunned, stupefied. Multiple words that for all their power couldn't quite hit on her feelings right now.
Jessica sighed as she tucked her hair up into a neat little bun and clasped the black veil into place.
It was time.
The funeral took place on the border of Toontown and Hollywood.
Toons of every shape and size appeared in ones and twos, some in huge groups, all of them somber in a way that was unexpected for a people normally so full of joy. Betty was already there when Jessica and Roger arrived, standing next to Dolores and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Dolores tried to smile when the two of them appeared, but the light never reached her eyes. She tightened her hold on the straps of her purse.
"Thank you for coming."
Jessica nodded once more. "I hope there are no hard feelings."
"I'd completely forgotten."
Their words fell silent, the conversation lulled, there wasn't really anything to talk about anyway. Roger left Jessica's side to go stand next to the open casket, and she didn't follow. Sometimes it was good to be alone, even if it felt like you were surrounded with people.
She stayed next to Dolores.
The once beautiful woman was now old, her smooth skin wrinkled with age - but the wrinkles were telling of years spent with love and laughter. Her hair faded from its dark brown to an amber color, but by now it was whitening through. She twisted the gold ring on her wedding finger, her eyes focused on the casket but unable to move any closer.
"You know...it's just a box," she said finally to no one in particular. A hint of a smile played across her lips. "In the end, really, it's just a box. Sure, it looks nice, but it's nothing spectacular."
Jessica didn't reply because how could she? She didn't know what it was like to lose anyone of importance in her life - and other than Eddie, she never would. She wrapped one arm about herself and lowered her head.
"...Toons don't even get that, do they?"
The Rabbit pressed her lips together, remembering how Dog-Eared Dick faded into the night and how Doom melted in the Dip. No, Toons didn't need any special boxes like this - there were no funerals in Toontown, no mourning over those Toons lost to them, because they'd served their purpose...and maybe one day, if they hadn't been Dipped, they would return to them.
"He would have wanted it this way, you know." Dolores nodded to the gathering crowd of Toons. "He really loved them in the end."
"I know."
Did it help her, to talk about him? Would it help her? Because Jessica felt an unfamiliar pain in her chest as she left the widow's side to stand next to her husband, to gaze on the man who once saved them both.
He'd grown old.
She rubbed Roger's back - an action that was just as comforting to her as she hoped it was to him - and continued to stand there, looking, wondering. Then, without thinking on it further, she bent down and kissed Eddie's forehead.
"Good-bye, Mr. Valiant."