Even as it was happening, Peter's funeral seemed so beyond surreal. The chapel at the hospital was full fit to burst with people who had come to mourn the loss of Peter Kemp. Stuart was officiating and despite his years in the clergy, he found that it was impossible to come up with the right words to say. So instead he borrowed Peter's words, opting to read passages from Peter's journals about the importance of love and family, artfully leaving out all mentions of angels or demons or anything else supernatural. People were allowed to say a few words, and those that were able to got up and shared memories or feelings or thoughts. Deirdre went on for nearly 20 minutes because that's what Deirdre did. No one minded. They were focused on Peter, resting in front of them like he was asleep. He was dressed in the suit he'd been married in to cover up his scars, and his hands were folded lightly across his chest. His first journal rested beneath them. It seemed only fitting that he be interred with it.

After the service, everyone relocated to the mausoleum that Aly had purchased. It was a large stone building with ornate iron work and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. And it was theirs now, it belonged to the family. Aly had placed some vases in the corners that had belonged to Louise. Flowers were placed in them, and Peter rested in the middle so people could see him one last time before he was lifted up and slid into his place in the top row. It was very informal, because that's how Peter would have liked it. Aly was hanging back, not yet ready to say goodbye. She let other people see him first. She knew how very important her husband was to...well...everyone. Instead of crowding, she leaned against the outside of the mausoleum, holding baby Thomas who was strangely still, and she cried softly as she stared up at the cloudy sky.