Fred watched silently as his family gathered around the three graves, most weeping and dressed in black. He stood away from them, not yet ready to join the grieving. He was determined to fight it as long as possible, and wasn't sure if he even had any tears left. He crossed his arms, surveying the area. There was an abundance of ginger-haired mourners, and even a few shady characters that Fred chose to ignore. Today wasn't about them. It was about his father.
He was dressed in all black, save for a faded bowtie that he wore around his neck. It had been Arthur's his favourite one, that he had given to Fred after he had returned to this world, a token of affection for his formerly lost son. Now it was Fred's most treasured memory of his father, who was lying in a freshly dug hole merely metres away.