The buffet sits beneath a veil of clingfilm. Children run as parents talk in hushed voices. Milling in swarms, not their usual crowds. The celebration, or whatever you wanted to call it, brought them together. Unknown cousins and long lost aunts flock together, hurded by grief. After a suitable time, not sure what for, the filmy veil is lifted. Guests tentatively pick at the body of food. Not wanting to indulge in their hunger, for the pain. Looking at the party I half expect the cake and the candles. But there are no candles today, your flame’s extinguished.