Entry two.

The funeral was today. I think most came only out of detached curiosity. I was the center of attention – like a rack of lamb over a bonfire at Yulefest. I felt naked. People stared at me, mumbled things under their breaths, but did not speak to me. They could not meet my eyes.

Why can they stare at me but not look me in the eyes? What are they afraid of, I wonder?

Some people cried, especially my Aunt. Of course- as she is my ma's sister. Was. Hard to think of my Ma being anyone's sister. Hard to think of her being anything else but my ma. Hard to think of her gone.

I did not cry.

--Frodo