Can we do it all again?

What do you do when it's all done?
What do you do when there nothing left to organise, or plan?
When they have been commemorated or celebrated and cremated and then...
What's left?
When you're not building up to the funeral of someone you love, and worrying about whether it's going to be done right. 

Then what do you focus on?

Suddenly you're back in the real world: the world you rediscover the day after they die, because the day they die the world stops.
But the world keeps on spinning as if they never left and the next day you find it's business as usual, except you have an event to organise. 

And when the date comes and goes, and the event is over, then the really real world comes back. 
And it's actually business as usual.
And suddenly business as usual seems so fruitless and pointless and you're inconsolable and inconsolably angry for no reason and you're feel like you're stuck in a dead end which wasn't signposted as a dead end so surely there's another way out.
But you can't find it. You don't find it. Things are "normal" but they're not.

You're so irreparably changed that suddenly you can't stop thinking about the next one. 
Wondering who will be next and how that event will go and how they would want it.
And whether you'll do them proud.
As if they could ever be proud of you for accurately planning and executing their funeral.
As if your choice of flowers, or words, or music, affects how they feel about you.
It doesn't: it's all for you, about them. 
It's not about doing them "justice". 
It's not about saying goodbye to them in the appropriate manner.
It's about doing whatever you need to do, to say what needs to be said or what you want to say.
It's about realising that life is short, even if it's 80 years long, and if you don't say it now it may remain forever unsaid or unheard. 
And if it is too late for them to hear, saying it anyway, to people that will hear and will listen and will understand. 
Because then you've heard it said aloud. And you know it to be true. 
And since anyone so loved is gone but not forgotten, you have still said it to them, and they have still heard. 
They hear you because they still live in you. When you breathe, laugh, smile. Cry. 

They are a part of you in a way you cannot alter.
They always will be.