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Rank：Diamond Member
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From：Canada
- Register：12/07/2008 01:08 AM
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Date Posted：02/26/2016 00:16 AMCopy HTML
Friday January 15, 2016
Psyche and Bryan had just arrived in London, where they took a cab to her parents home. It was a long ride, since Gatwick Airport was quite a ways from Camden Town. The cab ride had been mostly silent. Psyche hadn’t been ready to say very much up to now. She had butterflies in her stomach. She was dreading seeing her mother at this point. Her hands were shaking, nerves building with each minute that passed. She finally turned her head to Bryan, biting at the side of her cheek.
Psyche: “Thank you for coming with me, love…”
She kept her eyes locked on him for the moment.
Bryan: “Of course, anything I can do to help. How are you holding up?”
Psyche: “I’m just… really nervous. I don’t know how my mum is going to react, you know? She hasn’t lost anyone that close yet. Her parents are still around. And her grandparents passed before she was even born.”
Bryan: “Have you spoken with her? Made sure she was okay after the attack? I don’t know how you’re not wanting to kill Julliet right now. I wanted to kill her myself.”
Psyche raised a brow. She looked at Bryan with confusion on her face.
Psyche: “What attack? What are you talking about?”
Bryan: “Oh that’s right. That fucking bitch, she played a video after you left the show. She got to your mom, Psyche…”
Her heart sunk even further than it already had. Her mouth curved into a frown, tears threatening to form in her eyes.
Psyche: “What do you mean she got to mum? I was here all week. What happened?”
Bryan: “I don’t really know, I was already seeing red at that point. I just saw your mom, and Julliet in the same video. And then Julliet threw her down some stairs, god I feel like an idiot for telling you.”
Psyche’s head fell down for a moment, trying to process his words. Her head shot up and she looked at the driver. Psyche slapped her hand against the clear plexiglass dividing them and him.
Psyche: “Can you speed it up, yeah? I have to get home. It’s an emergency.”
Psyche turned her attention back to Bryan.
Psyche: “Don’t feel like an idiot. It’s not your fault. It’s hers... Fuck… we need to get home… We’re only five minutes away. Bloody hell… If she’s not okay, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t lose her too..”
She closed her eyes for a moment, hurt seen on her face.
Bryan: “What do you need me to do?”
Psyche: “Nothing, love. We’re almost there. I just want to be sure she’s okay.”
The ride didn’t last much longer. The driver had sped up like she had asked. When he got to the proper address, they pulled up to a lovely townhouse. Psyche’s parents home. She paid the driver and the two grabbed their luggage from the trunk. She raced up the steps to the door, pushing it open. It was normal for the door to be unlocked, especially now with the guests showing up.
Psyche: “Mum! Mum!!”
She yelled, dropping her stuff in the hallway. Bryan came up behind her. Mrs. Devyne came to the middle landing of the stairs. Psyche looked up at her mother, half expecting to see her bruised and in a cast, at least. But there she was, perfectly fine.
Mrs. Devyne: “My baby…”
Psyche smiled slightly and shot up the stairs to her mother. She was so relieved. Her mother was okay. It was a cruel prank all along. The woman in the video had to have been an actress. How else could it all be explained? Her mother was fine, standing right in front of her. That damned girl…
She wrapped her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly. She closed her eyes. She could feel her mother shaking. She was crying. A small frown came over Psyche’s lips. She hugged tighter, trying to comfort her mother. This was her time to be the one that was there for her mother. As much as she wanted to break down and cry over what was going on and finding out her mother was possibly in trouble, she had to be strong for her mother. They stood there for a moment in silence, her mother sobbing quietly. After a little bit, Psyche pulled back. Her mother had calmed a bit, wiping her eyes.
Psyche: “I’m so happy you’re okay. I was worried.”
Mrs. Devyne: “Worried? Why?”
Psyche: “I thought something happened. And I should have been here for you.”
Mrs. Devyne: “You had to go. It was unexpected…”
Her mother frowned, feeling tears come again. Psyche tried to change the subject, pointing to Bryan.
Psyche: “I brought Bryan, mum. See?”
She looked down at Bryan, becoming a bit self conscious.
Mrs. Devyne: “Oh! Bryan… I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were here. I must look a mess…”
She brought her hands to her cheeks, hiding a bit of her face.
Bryan: “Hi Mrs. Devyne. I’m so sorry for your loss…”
Mrs. Devyne: “Thank you. And it’s Jude, Bryan. Much too formal having you call me ‘Mrs.’. I’m going to go freshen up. You two get settled.”
Psyche: “Mum… you don’t have to worry about that.”
Jude: “No, no… I have a lot of things to do and guests showing up. I have to look my best. Find me when you’re settled. I’ll make you both some tea.”
As if she had never cried in the first place, Jude walked up the stairs, heading to her bedroom. Psyche made a face, looking back to Bryan.
Psyche: “Even when she’s grieving, she still has to look perfect.”
She shook her head, a small hint of a smile on her face. She started down the stairs.
Psyche: “Let’s bring our things upstairs, yeah?”
Bryan: “Sounds like a good idea, shoulder is feeling fine, want me to grab your things?”
Psyche: “No, no. I can take mine, love.”
She got to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed her own bags. They carried them upstairs to the old bedroom Psyche had growing up. It was left the way it was when she left home, though a lot cleaner. She dropped her bags in a corner and sat on the bed for a second, looking around the room. Even when they had come to visit weeks ago, Psyche hadn’t shown Bryan her old bedroom. It just never came up. The walls were painted a bright green colour and covered in random movie posters. It was her space. And she did miss it, that was for sure. She looked at Bryan.
Psyche: “Thank you again, Bryan. You have no idea what it means to me that you came.”
Bryan: “I’m glad you asked, couldn’t find you after the show so I had no idea what was going on. Things have been weird after we came back from London, haven’t they?”
She nodded.
Psyche: “Very weird. I was so distant. And then with my dad heading into the hospital, I got worse. I’m really sorry for that…”
Bryan: “I can’t blame you for any of that, just tried to be here as much as I could be. Sorry we had to come back under these circumstances, wish I could have brought you back home on better terms.”
She looked down, frowning a bit.
Psyche: “As do I, love. I wasn’t expecting this. Any of this. I wasn’t ready to lose my dad.”
She bit her lip again, trying to stop tears from forming. She still had to be strong. But it was hard. She had already crumbled in the ring. How could she be strong here? In the house he was just in?
Bryan: “Well, I’m here for you. No matter what.”
Psyche: “I know, love.”
She stood up and walked to him, wrapping her hands around his waist. He did the same, hugging her.
Bryan: “Look, it’s going to be hard on you for a while. I’ll do what I can, but in the end it will all come down to you and how you use this. You can turn this into something, you know? Your anger, your pain, it can all be bottled and saved for later. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you, just don’t give up. Alright?”
She closed her eyes, pressing her body as close to his as possible. She nodded her head against him. She felt secure with him. Safe. He could help take away bad feelings. The two stayed like that for a while.
- - - - - - - - -
“Things are difficult for me right now. I have a lot on my mind. I have so many things swirling through my mind, pulling me in so many directions. But here’s the thing… I can turn all of that off. I can turn off the things swirling around in my brain and push them to the deepest spots in my mind. I have proven that. I proved that last week when I faced Taryn Willow. I got the hardest call I had ever received in my life, yet I still focused myself and won that match. I did exactly what I claimed I would. I did exactly what I came back to do. Win my match. That’s the difference between myself and other people. I am the strong one who is able to stop herself from showing too much emotion. I am the one who can be there for others. But after my match last week, I couldn’t contain myself anymore. The adrenaline I had for that match ended quickly afterwards. I crashed. But I didn’t crash during. I kept my momentum. And I will show everyone that that wasn’t just a one time thing. I’m not a one trick pony. I can do it again. I can focus again and win something like this Battle Royal.”
“Let’s look at my opponents this week. There’s so many people I have to get through… so many people I get to put my hands on and move out of my way so that I can get this title shot. Let’s start with Devlin. The man beat me, yes. But that won’t happen again. Devlin is more of a one trick pony in my books. He is a misogynistic twat that doesn’t deserve to be in this ring. He thinks he’s above everyone in this place. That’s the thing… he’s not. He’s a pretty boy that is trying to act like a badass. Telling women to know their place and get back into the kitchen. How old is he? Twelve? Get back on your tricycle and ride home, love. You’re not worth any of our times. You’re a waste of bleach. And honestly, sweetheart… you can’t pull it off. How about I make that pretty little nose bleed out again, hm?”
“DudeJob… A man I beat. And I beat him by submission. That has to be a bit of a slap in the face. A woman almost half your size, if not more than, held you down and made you tap out. I’m sure it makes you feel rotten inside. You’re used up. Your talent is starting to fade. To me, you’re like the Ric Flair of the company. Never giving up because you can’t bear to be away from wrestling. Skin on the verge of tearing apart. I’m sorry to say this, DJ, but you’re time is up. I know I’ve said before that you should just quit now while you’re ahead, but it still applies. You’re like a pair of socks that are ripped at the soles and toes. Yea, they keep most of the foot warm, but they’re also the reason that one two is about to catch gangrene.. and the reason the sole of the foot has Athelete’s Foot. You’re that sock, Dude. You’re alright sometimes, but you’re also allowing disease to spread. And soon enough, that disease will spread too far and that foot will have to be removed. You will die, DJ… and you will need to be removed before you infect the roster even further.”
“Then we have Marisol Fuller. A woman that did get the upper hand against me… but that was a fluke, my dear. The only reason you keep winning is because you’re getting lucky. Each opponent you face and win against is in a rough patch. A time when they aren’t focused enough to get a win over you. But let me tell you something, Marisol. Your luck is soon to run out. You’re a doctor. Go back to doing what you went to school for. Everyone in this match will take advantage of showing you exactly why you don’t belong here. Because nobody thinks you belong here. You’re a waste of roster space. Catching wins because you’ve been lucky. That’s all it is. It’s over, Fuller. You’ll join your brother in being the most pitiful family in the history of this business. You’re not even close to being on any of our levels.”
“We also have Amy Jo Smyth. The glitterbomber. The leader, so it seems, of the Power Rangers. We have a mutual respect, you and I. My other half joins you in your conquest to be the good guys. But that’s all I can say about it. We can team up and take on the other people in this match, but in the end, we’re still fighting against each other. And at some point, we’ll have to trade blows. As much as you may want this shot, I want it more. I want to rip this shot out of the hands of all the others in this match. And unfortunately for you, you’re my opponent. So if it comes to it, I will tear that shot away from you and take it for my own. You can’t have everything, love. Nobody can. And though you may think you deserve everything, you don’t. You have been given so many chances. But you can never quite reach what you want. You always fall short. It’s someone else’s time. It’s someone else’s turn to win. Someone else’s turn to ACTUALLY win from their chance.”
“All these people that I have come against before in the ring. If not one on one, then in a larger match setting. I have lost and I have won… but no matter what, I got back up each time and showed my resilience. I am no push over. I’m not someone to overlook. I will surprise each and every one of you, showing those I beat that I am not a one trick pony and show those I lost to that they are. None of you can count me out yet.”
- - - - - - - - -
Saturday January 16th, 2016
7:43pm
Psyche sat alone in her old bedroom, looking around as she had done earlier. Bryan was down in the living room, talking to Jude about whatever they could. Psyche had needed alone time and asked Bryan to try and take her mums mind off of what was going on. He was good at it, so she trusted that he would do everything in his power to get her mum to smile.
Her eyes scanned the walls, looking at the old movie posters she had collected. A Hellraiser poster set just above her bed. One of her favorite movies of all time. She scanned more of her room, eyes stopping at a vanity that was set up against the wall directly across from her. On the mirror she had placed tons of photos and trinkets of memory. She stood up, walking over to it. She looked through them all, trying to rename her old friends from school. She hadn’t remembered many of them. Most were ones she didn’t talk to anymore. But a few were newer as well. She looked at a few on the other side, mostly of family members.
She picked one off the mirror, holding it closer to her. It was a photo of her father and herself. She frowned, looking at the smile on his face. All she could think of was not being able to see him smile again. Her eyes welled up, tears forming quickly. She was alone now. This was okay.
A single tear fell on the picture as she stared at it. They looked so happy. They were on a trip to America for one of the Wrestlemania shows. She couldn’t even recall which one it was. They had gotten someone to take their photo during the event. They had had so much fun that night. She would never have that again. They would never be able to share a wrestling show with each other again. Her eyes closed and her face tightened.
He would never see her wrestle again.
She quietly sobbed, putting the photo down on the top of the vanity. She moved back to her bed, grabbing a stuffy that sat there. Another memory of her father. He had brought this home for her after a trip. A small stuffed teddy that was brown. It wasn’t anything special, but that’s what she had liked about it. She liked its simplicity.
She held it close to her chest, pressing her cheek against the top of its head. She continued to sob, finally letting out what she needed to from the past day. Being strong for her mother was hard. It was hard to keep in her emotions. It drained her. As she sat alone in her old bedroom, she was able to let those emotions out. She could cry and grieve over her father’s death. She could mourn him. Because she knew she’d have to hold most of it in at the service the next day. She would have to keep everything bottled inside once again. She would have to be strong for her family.
- - - - - - - - -
“So now we look at those who I haven’t faced yet. Those who are probably counting me out before they even meet me in the ring. It’s a huge mistake, honestly. I can’t say I’m perfect. I can’t say I will dominate everyone… but I will try my hardest to do it. First, we’ll look at Aidan Morag. He has an impressive resume, I must say. Part of a dominant stable that took over Boardwalk at one time. And he even became Internet Champion. But that was the past. You’re up against new talent now. You’re up against fresh blood. Ones that are ready and willing to show off and get their chance to win that Internet Title. You’ve had your time with the title. We’re not about to relive the past just for you, love. This is the future. I am the future.”
“Myris is another person that won the Internet Championship. He’s a bit more hidden from me, however. I’m not exactly familiar with who he is or what he’s done. But I have heard that it was Aidan that took your title away. I say the same to you as I said to Aidan. You had your time. You’re old news. Your chance came and went. There’s no need to see if you can do it again. You showed you could once… but you also showed you could lose it. And if you can lose it, what makes you think you can take it from someone like CJ?”
“Buddy Royal… That name leaves a bad taste in your mouth, doesn’t it? Controversy mixed with embarrassment, I’d say. He’s too busy trying to fight dicks with those going for the Anarchy title. Trying to win a title that is constantly passed around like an STI. Each person infecting the title with something worse and worse. And each time you go for it, Buddy, you infect it without even winning. But you don’t stop with the title. You seem to have made it your mission to infect the entire roster as well. Getting into everyone’s business and feeling as if you must shine a light on every situation. That’s not your job. Nor are you wanted for that type of thing. Jump off of everyone else’s dick and keep your shit to yourself. But at the same time... you’re not my business. My business is coming out above you in this match. And I plan to do so.”
“Now for someone I truly do respect. Someone who has helped me out a lot. Cyrus Riddle. One of the few people I actually see as a threat. He helped me last week, coming to my aid when I needed it most. And for that, I am truly grateful. Even through all of the things going on with family and between Bryan and yourself, you still have remained honest and true with me. I thank you for that. But that’s not going to help you in this match. Here, we’re enemies. And I have no choice but to treat you as such. I want this chance to win that title. I want to beat all of you. And sadly, Riddle… you’ll be just another obstacle in the way of my win. I plan to step over you to get what I want, love.”
“Now the final person I’m going to talk about is the very person that has caused me much grief and annoyance over the past while. Julliet Brooks. I have met her in the ring. And I have stepped over her once before to win a case in a match. This… this will just be number two. We haven’t met one on one yet… but when we do, I will tear her apart. Julliet… I will tear you apart. Everything you have done over the last while is just building up my rage towards you. The last straw has to be what you did to my “mother”. Ladies and gents… Supreme acting by Julliet Brooks and an unnamed woman! Let’s give her a round of fucking applause. My mother is not 70 years old, Julliet. But nice try. I saw the footage. And had I been in my right mind and seen it at the time, I would have found you and wrung your neck. Choked you until your neck broke and your body fell limp. You fuck with me all you want. I can take what you dish… but you fuck with my family? You will see exactly what I can do. Exactly what I’ve hidden. I will never forgive you, even if it was all an act. The fact that you even thought to do such a thing is disgusting. How you could go around trying to hurt my family, who have nothing to do with our world. You’re disgusting, Julliet. Even if I don’t win this match, I’ll be happy enough being able to tear you to fucking pieces in the center of that ring. I will show everyone exactly who will come out the winner when we finally meet in the ring one on one…”
“I will come out of this match a better competitor. I will show everyone that they shouldn’t overlook me. I will show everyone why I belong in Boardwalk. As I said, even without full focus, I beat Taryn Willow… the woman who almost couldn’t be beaten. And guess what happened? I beat her. My own hands took down a woman that was only taken down by chairs. If I can beat her, who knows what else I can be capable of. I am here to crush the dreams of my opponents. I am here to break you all. And I plan to come out on top. I plan to win that shot against CJ and become the new Internet Champion. I want this shot. And I am willing to do whatever I can to win. I will find a way. And when I do, you will all realize you should have never underestimated Psyche Devyne.”
- - - - - - - - -
Sunday January 17, 2016
Highgate Cemetery
London, England
People had flocked to the cemetery for the celebration of Francis Devyne’s life. There were more people in the area than what could accommodate them. Many stood beside the chairs that had been formed into rows, making sure they were there to listen to the words of the funeral director. The family wasn’t as religious as most, but Francis Devyne had been baptized as a child and he would attend mass at times with his wife Jude. As their daughter had grown up, they visited the church less and less, but still kept faith. Their daughter Psyche, however, didn’t attend church. Her faith fell and she kept to her own about her religious beliefs, if at all. But she would never deny her family’s faith. Her fathers wishes, however, led them to stray away from the church, keeping to just a director.
In the front row, Psyche sat beside her mother. Her hand was caught in both of her mothers, holding on tightly. Jude wore a black dress that was a bit loose on her body. A black fur coat covered her upper body. Her most fancy clothes. Psyche wore a dress as well with black stockings and black heels. A sweater was over her bare shoulders. Psyche’s other hand was laced together with the man beside her. Bryan Williams. Her boyfriend. He absently stroked her hand with his thumb. He wore a black suit that he was smart enough to bring along, even with the rushed flight. Other family members surrounded them along with friend and coworkers of Francis. Everyone was in shock over the whole thing. It was all so sudden. A few sniffles were heard here and there from the people surrounding the site.
Finally, the funeral director came to the area. He made his way to the small podium that had been set up, looking around at the greenery surrounding him and the grieving faces of those who loved Francis. It was time for him to begin. He started with the sign of the cross, paying respect to Francis’ beliefs. Psyche didn’t pay attention. Other things took her mind. Memories. She bit at her lip, trying to stop herself from tearing up from thoughts alone. The man cleared his throat, acknowledging the people around him.
Funeral Director: “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Nicholas McAllister and I am going to lead this funeral today. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you for coming out today to celebrate the life of Francis Devyne. Everyone here was touched in some way by Francis, which is shown by the sheer amount of people in attendance today. I never had the pleasure of knowing Francis, but I have spent some time with his family, his wife Judith and his daughter…”
He paused for a moment, trying to read her name from the card.
Nicholas: “Psyche…”
Incredibly, he pronounced her name right. Some members of the family let out quiet snickers, including Psyche herself. A little funny moment to lighten the situation. The director continued his speech.
Nicholas: “…and I have been left with a very clear impression of the kind of person that he was. Francis wasn't one for too much fuss or ceremony so I won't go on for too long, and I will be keeping to his more recent past because that is something you will all be more familiar with.”
He paused, switching the page of his notes.
Nicholas: “Francis Devyne was born in Highgate on September 16, 1955, and so began the life of the man that the people gathered here today were proud to call husband, father, son, brother and friend.”
Nicholas raised his arm, motioning towards Jude.
Nicholas: “Francis and Judith, or as many of you know her, Jude, met in Camden Town 40 years ago; he was then, and always was a solid, reliable, all-round good guy. He was someone you felt at ease with, someone that you instinctively knew you could trust and rely on. He was a well-liked and respected man with many friends and although he didn't see some of them as often as he used to, they still kept in touch with each other, safe in the unspoken knowledge that they were there for each other if needed. Francis’ life was his family who meant more to him than anything. He was a home loving family man, Jude recalled that he even gave up on a short spell of working away from home in America, because he missed his family too much. He would at times even take Psyche along with him on the business trips he agreed to go on instead of staying permanently in America.”
He had turned his head to look at Psyche for the moment acknowledging her.
Nicholas: “Some may not know this, but one of Francis’ main hobbies was painting; he enjoyed the challenge of creating new pieces with many forms of media. He did a lot of custom pieces for friends and family, some even portraits. One being of his wife and daughter, which has hung over the fire place ever since. There is evidence of his obvious love and devotion to his family by the many high quality and professional standard paintings of them and for them in their house.”
He switched through his pages again. Psyche turned to look at her mum. That painting of the two of them was her prized possession. Her favorite thing he had ever painted for her.
Nicholas: “Francis was a bit of a perfectionist in everything he did, he liked things to be just so. Francis liked to do technical drawings as well, which was part of his profession; he was extremely meticulous and went to great lengths to ensure that every detail was correct, every line had to be perfectly straight or parallel with another, every curve had to have the correct radius. This was his professionalism. And this extreme perfection was what landed him the multiple raises and promotions he received over the years. Eventually, he became CEO of the same company he had worked for for 30 years; RideoCorp International.”
Nicholas smiled thoughtfully.
Nicholas: “Jude told me that Francis had a wide range of musical taste and appreciation of music, this was confirmed when I glanced briefly over his record and C.D. collection. Jude said that even when simply listening to music, it had to be just right, Barry would adjust the speakers and alter the controls until he got it just right for him to listen to and enjoy. Francis also followed American wrestling and would watch it whenever he had the opportunity, one of his claims to fame was that he arm-wrestled with Ric Flair once in a pub. Nobody can for sure back up this claim at this time.”
The people surrounding the area laughed at the joke. Everyone had heard about that claim to fame. That was his most prized moment. It could have been true, but he also could have been plastered. Who knows?
Nicholas: “Francis’ love for wrestling was shared by his daughter Psyche. He took her to many wrestling events and the times he brought her with him for business in America, he would bring her to a show nearby. This, in turn, drove Psyche to her current profession in wrestling in America. Francis wasn't into actually taking part in physical sports, however, as he preferred and enjoyed more leisurely games like pool.”
A few of the people there nodded, knowing how much Francis enjoyed pool.
Nicholas: “Now, I wrote this short tribute to Francis yesterday afternoon, but then I read the notice in last nights Gazette, so I felt I needed to add it in. I don't know who it was from and I don't know if they are here this afternoon, but it was for Francis, and it said quite simply: "a really cool bloke"- "a really cool bloke". If I had dispensed with everything else and just stood here and repeated those four words, they would have told you all you needed to know about him. I asked Jude if she had something that she would particularly like me to say about her husband. She didn't even have to think about it, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Everybody loved him".”
Jude nodded slowly, tears welling up in her eyes. Psyche leaned her head on her mums shoulder, trying to comfort her.
Nicholas: “Francis passed on Friday early in the morning. I know he will be greatly missed by everyone who knew and loved him. When someone who has lived a long and fulfilled life dies, it's befitting and appropriate that we should give thanks for, and celebrate their life. When someone is taken from us, as Francis was, in the prime of their life, understandably we are not as comfortable with words and phrases that point towards a celebration of their life. Immense anger, deep hurt, inconsolable grief, rage, disbelief, these are just a few of the words and feelings that may be associated with thoughts of Francis’ death. But hidden in all the pain and sorrow that we feel. There is undeniably something to celebrate. We can celebrate the fact that we have known Francis, though he is no longer with us we can celebrate that we were privileged and honored to have known him. That he was a part of our lives.”
Nicholas nodded, pausing for a moment.
Nicholas: “So we meet here today to honor and pay tribute to Francis and to express our love and admiration for him, and in doing so I hope that we can bring some form of comfort to those of his family and friends who are here, and who have been deeply hurt by his untimely death. The catastrophe of death cannot be altered, but it can be transformed by love. We are here to share our grief, so I hope you will not feel ashamed or embarrassed to weep openly if this is help. And perhaps you will feel glad that you took the opportunity to do some of your grieving in the presence of others who have known and loved Francis. You can share your love for him through others and grieve together. This is a place of love. That is the best way to look at it. And if you do not love those around you, then you will find it harder to pass through the grief. Together, you can get through this.”
Nicholas looked around at the people who had joined him for this day.
Nicholas: “We will shortly spend a few moments in silence and you can each remember Francis in your own special way. Perhaps also during this quiet time we can spare a special thought and offer our sympathy our love and support to Francis’ family; his wife Jude, Psyche, his parents Ron and Stella, and all of his family and friends.”
Everyone takes a few moments of silence. Sympathies are being given, with people hugging and shaking hands, giving condolences, and being supportive. Psyche stayed in her seat, hands still tangled with Bryan’s. She was nervous. She was scared for what would come next. After a few moments, Nicholas returned to the podium. He raised and lowered his hands, asking everyone to quiet down.
Nicholas: “Now, I’d like to take this opportunity to invite Psyche to the podium. She has written a few words about her father that she would like to share.”
Psyche’s head slowly came up, looking at the podium. She let out a quiet sigh before standing from her seat.
To Be Continued… |
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