Disclaimer: I don't own anything that the great A. A. Milne wrote. I just use what he left behind to further my writing skills.
Madeline Skylar Milne walked up to the casket. She looked down to see the still, neutral face of her father. The shock of the whole ordeal still hadn't completely hit her. In her mind, her father is just playing a trick on her, like when she would go into her parents room on Christmas and jump onto their bed to wake them up. Her father would lay still, breathing slow, eyes closed. When Madeline was just about to give up on waking them up, her father would jump out of bed and grab her to hug her before whispering a "Merry Christmas" in her ear and kissing her on the forehead. Some of her best memories. When she still was speaking to her father.
There was a falling out between her father and herself. They never did resolve it. Now it was too late. She has tried multiple times to forgive her father for what he had done to failed every time. She would drive to her old childhood home and park a few houses away and sit there in her car, never gathering enough courage to actually walk up the path that led to the door. Plus, what would she say? Her brain forgets how to make sentences when she even attempts to put together what she would say.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean for it to end this way. I really did try," she whispered. She placed her hand on the casket. The cold under her hand made her remove it just as quickly as she put it there. Tears started to roll down her cheek, making her turn away quickly and get up to walk to the back of the church.
Throwing open the church doors, Madeline ran out into the dreary rain of London. Her lack of oxygen was making her dizzy. She fell onto the steps leading up to the church. Her soul ripped through her body in the form of a wailing sob.
That's when Madeline felt a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head from her hands. It was her mother. Madeline looked up to her mother and said "I can't do this, Mom."
Her mother sat down next to Madeline on the steps. She wrapped her arms around her hurting daughter. It was the only comfort that she could offer her. There is no set of instructions for something like this. Something that cuts out your heart and stomps on it repeatedly.
"I know, sweetheart. I know." Anne sat with her daughter rocking back and forth on the steps, letting the rain fall over them. Their last concern was that of getting wet. When Madeline calmed down, her mother ushered her back into the church to finish out the funeral of Christopher Robin Milne.