Still Beauty

This evening Brian Williams favours us with a striped cravat of deep navy and smoky plum.  That he would never see her again after today was unfathomable.  The kind words of the interminable procession of friends, family, and acquaintances meant nothing--no--less than nothing to him.  Why were they there?  Why could he not be alone with his grief?  He looked out into the sea of mourners in their dark, respectful clothes and silently screamed at all of them to leave, just go home.  He turned back to the casket where she lay quietly, so awfully quietly, the amethyst brooch he gave her for her birthday pinned at her waist.  As he beheld her still beauty, the amethyst began to imperceptibly swirl, then brighten.