Judith (more on Judith here and here) came in on Sunday – she wanted to tell someone about her daughter’s funeral. Despite the smell of alcohol she was relatively sober. Today really clean. Good clothes. Her daughter was stabbed two days before Christmas. Murdered. She came to tell us that the funeral was on Tuesday. "I don’t think I can do it" she sniffed as she spoke to Kate. "I can’t go…I can’t face it…" her voice trails away. "Could you if we came with you?" The only response a hopeful glance – "Judith come in on Tuesday and we’ll come with you". Judith leaves.
Tuesday came and we waited. We waited 11am came and went. A 20ish crack-head was buried – I wondered who’d be there, what would be said.
Judith couldn’t face it. We waited. She didn’t come.