Not a great way to start a story but here I am Jack Harrison, pall-bearer at the burial of my ex father in law Peter Mason. I stand outside at the wake finding a bit of peace and quiet; gut wrenchingly sad but beginning to recall happier times and memories of a fine man.
"Hello Jack."
I sighed, inevitable I guess, a conversation with my ex-wife Elizabeth. Something which I have avoided since our divorce 5 years previously.
"Lizzy", I replied, surprised she didn't flinch at the use of her shortened name. She still looked good but I wasn't going to tell her, she knew anyway.
"Thanks for today."
"It was an honour, he was a good friend and we saw a lot of each other after... after you left for the city."
The silenced stretched on, in the end I picked at the scab I knew I should leave alone.
"How is life in the city, still got everything you wanted."
It was Lizzy's turn to sigh, "Yes I have the life I chased, money, city centre apartment, costal cottage.
"Great, I'm pleased for you."
"I doubt that Jack, I do miss our drunken nights out and parties with our friends, it a shame those things stop as your get older."
"Oh they haven't stopped, the old gang still do the parties and BBQ's, there are just a lot more kids running about these days."
"Really you stayed in touch with them, they were more my friends than yours."
"Yeah they were great after... the guys dragged me to the pub and the wives took pity on me and cooked lots. It meant a lot; they really are a great bunch of friends."
Lizzy hesitated, "Oh... I sort of lost touch with them and dad with the move."
The response was sharper than I intended "Yeah you did and he missed you."
Another silence before she continued. "I'm not sure I ever said sorry, for the way it ended or explained it."