CAD4-027
Barista: Jean-Marc Chausson
Date: Dec-30-2019
Receipt: CAD4-027
Subject: Business as Usual
Tomorrow, we say goodbye.
I didn’t want this funeral to mark the new year. Didn’t want to carry our grief into the next decade, letting it smolder like dying embers. No, we leave it here, in 2019, where it belongs. We’ve carried this loss long enough. It will never leave us—but we choose what weight we bear. Grief, after all, is not just sorrow—it is love with nowhere to go.
December 31st. One last day to lay it all to rest.
To say what needs to be said. To mourn. To remember. And to promise—not to move on, but to carry forward. Not in spite of this loss, but because of it. We won’t forget. We won’t let go. But we continue to move. We will continue to live. And for their sake, for the ones we lost, we will keep going. That is what they would have wanted. Not for us to crumble, not for us to stagnate, but to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting, to make sure that their sacrifices meant something.
The service will be at noon. Nothing terribly grand. A few words from those who knew them best—and otherwise just us. Those who remain. Will say our goodbyes in whatever way feels right, as we do, those final embers of that horrid crisis may finally die out and we can bury our own corpses. It won’t be easy. But if it were, it wouldn’t be worth doing. And we’ll do it together.
If you have anything you want to say, say it then. If you want to keep it to yourself, that’s fine too. But be there. That’s all I ask. Not just for them. For us. For all of us who made it through when they didn’t. For the family we have left. I truly hope to see everyone there.
Tomorrow, we leave our ghosts behind. And after that?
We look ahead—to the new decade. To the world waiting beyond this one. We will right this wrong. End this injustice. We will put an end to the Cold. To Wicked. To Phantom. To Secret. And most importantly… to Fate itself.