I have never been asked to do this sort of thing before.
"Can you play something sad but beautiful for Anna's funeral on Monday?"
Anna died last night. She was eighteen. She was my girlfriend's niece. I saw her for the first time some nine years ago. She could just walk then, but she would deteriorate continuously for the rest of her life. The rare genetic disorder left her body unable to break down the poisons. The poisons halted her physical and mental growth and then gradually exerted a stranglehold on her. Her mother had to feed her, change her nappies and try to comfort her through the spells of panic as she struggled to breathe. Max, the younger brother, is dying of the same disease. Children rarely survive beyond puberty and fifteen is exceptional.
I lost both of my parents over the past three years – not an uncommon occurrence for a man in his forties – and the song tumbled out without any conscious effort. It is not a great song, but it sums up in some way how I feel when people pass on. It is the best I can do and I shall try not to choke as I reflect upon Anna, her brother and her heroic, unsung mother.
                                
We Will Walk Together

When the fever's high and the shadows creep
And you want to wrap yourself in sleep
Take my hand
And we will walk together

When the bitter wind cuts your face
And the rain drenched path leads no place
Take my hand
And we will walk together

        We will walk
        We will walk
        Take my hand and we will walk together

When your home is empty and your children gone
And you can not bear to hear their song
Take my hand
And we will walk together

When the sun goes down and the world must end
And you stand alone without a friend
Take my hand
And we will walk together