Sam's P.O.V
Somehow Tom struggles through the last two days,with everyone morning he seems stronger,or maybe he's getting better at disguising his grief ,I say this because I was helping him clear his wardrobe when he found some of Grace's kirby grips when he suddenly vanished and I'm almost certain that I heard muffled sobbing.
His mother spent the afternoon in hospital,she promised him that she would try and quit but I think we both know that it's an empty promise,however Tom surprisingly put her up in a hotel so she could attend Graces's funeral. Tom's parents moved into his flat and he moved in with me for the short period of time they would be down here,things are still uncomfortable between them.
And that leads us to today,Graces's funeral. I watch Tom adjust his tie in front of the mirror as I smooth down my black dress. " I always thought she would want bright colours" Tom sighs breaking the silence " she was so bright and colourful, I suppose this will do" he says his voice already cracking as he places a crystal blue pocket square into the pocket of his suit, everyone attending has been asked to wear an item of blue to match her eyes,I'm wearing a turquoise belt,cinching in the mourners dress.
I walk beside Tom's mother into the church yard while her son and husband walk slowly ahead,a beat to the regular pound of footsteps to the church as the funeral procession carry Grace's coffin. No one likes funerals for obvious reasons but this one is particularly hard,Tom's biological mother sits beside him shaking and sweating from withdrawal while his adoptive mother shakes from crying so hard. The vicar announces Tom would like to do a reading, I watch as he rises from the pew to the alter. His voice echoes against the church acoustics,he reads a speech made about his sister. When he begins he sounds strong,in control but a few lines in the cracks in voice begin to appear as does the obviousness that Tom cannot continue, I rise from the pew before I know what I'm doing and wrap my arms around him before I continue reading. There is an air of respect as I finish clasping Tom's clammy hand "thank you he whispers" pulling back my silky hair, I just squeeze his hand,he doesn't need to thank me. As we sit back down I feel a change amongst the animosity Tom had with both his adoptive and biological parents, Tom reaches out to his mother to rub her back,it seems a weight has been lifted,he steadies his biological mother's shaking hand, I couldn't feel prouder of him.