Two days later, it was Stephanie's funeral, held in a private cemetery in Green Hill on the outskirts of town.
The sky was overcast with gloom and the rain was drizzling all the time. In the private cemetery, the stone path was washed by the rain. On both sides of the road, the boundless green garden of bamboo was enveloped entirely by the mist. The red maple leaves scattered all the way along looked as if there was a thin layer of red mist.
Stephanie was not a fan of extravagant ceremonies, and did not like crowds. Most importantly, it was actually such a tragic that she should die in such a way.
So the funeral was extremely simple, with only a few relatives and close friends attending.
Yesterday, Luther set up a funeral in the city, where the rest of the community, distant relatives and friends, etc., went to pay their respects. The group also held a memorial service yesterday. Only a few people came to Stephanie's funeral today.
Joyce was not able to appear in the public eye, plus she was unable to leave the house because of the injury on her back, so she did not go to the funeral yesterday.
She wore a black shirt, a black skirt, and a black hat with a black veil hanging down from the brim to block her mournful expression.
Luther also wore a black suit and black tie, looking dignified and solemn.
The priest was already waiting at the cemetery, and he had Stephanie's spirit armature in front of him.
Stephanie was lying peacefully in the middle of the lilies, with her hands folded, holding a bouquet of lilies in her hands. The make-up artist gave her a delicate make-up so that her face did not show the pain she had suffered during her life.
When she saw Stephanie, she suddenly could not hold back the grief surging from her heart, and at that moment Joyce couldn't help but shed silent tears.
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