[Intro | spoken word, close male vocal, rubato piano, sparse] [Male] I scroll the open tabs, stop at "Dignified Farewells" — five out of five stars: local, traditional, kind. Click to register. The form unfolds: "Relation to the deceased?" — I type: eldest son. "Attach her birth certificate. Mother's maiden name?" — that one I know by heart. [Verse 1 | brushes and upright bass enter, slow pulse, intimate male vocal] [Male] I kneel and reach into her wardrobe, lift the box up into the lamp's low light. The certificate on top, laid out and ready — as if she knew someone would come looking. Papers from the bank, papers from the council — everything asked for, and underneath: envelopes in a hand I've never known. [Chorus | tender, restrained, muted trumpet answering between lines] [Male] There's a tab for everything that has to happen: chapel and coffin, date and place, hymns on a shortlist, flowers and lace — your whole goodbye here in my hand. So I type your name into the search bar — and all that comes back can be delivered. [Verse 2 | stripped back, hushed vocal, piano and bass only] [Male] I open the top one: "Dearest Vera" — my mother never went by Vera. The same hand through letter after letter, photos from an island: one summer, you're so young, typewriters in the dune grass, scarves around your hair — and on the last page: "I still find sand from your hair on my pillow — I long for you and for the writing." [Chorus | tender, restrained, muted trumpet answering between lines] [Male] There's a tab for everything that has to happen: chapel and coffin, date and place, hymns on a shortlist, flowers and lace — your whole goodbye here in my hand. So I type your name into the search bar — and all that comes back can be delivered. [Bridge | freer tempo, muted trumpet under the voice, quiet emotional peak] [Male] I search for "Vera" — and now you're everywhere: a poetry collection, two names on the cover, your island in black and white, your face before I existed. Back to the draft — "2 characters remaining" — I delete a word and type: "also known as Vera." [Chorus | slightly fuller, warm, resolved] [Male] There's a tab for everything that has to happen: chapel and coffin, date and place, hymns on a shortlist, flowers and lace — your whole goodbye here in my hand. So I type your name into the search bar — now I know which one — and there you are. [Outro | spoken word, fading piano, soft muted trumpet, brushes] [Male] After the final hymn, the tea and sandwiches, I close the tabs down one by one — chapel, flowers, the paper: settled, paid. Only one still open: "one copy found, used, good condition" — your book is on its way home to me. [End]
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