To you, Reginald Jeeves.

All things come to an end.

Tw: Death, Blood, Bodily Harm.

As they say 'All good things must come to an end' fortunately they end with a bang, a celebration or a leaving party. Unfortunately this was different, It had barely been a month as I sat in the room of Roderick Glossop's institute for 'crazies'. But how have you landed there Bertie? I hear you saying.

A month ago marked the death of Reginald Jeeves, my valet, my mentor, my best friend. He came out alive from the attack, but it was the complications and bleeding that ultimately took him away. I left Roderick Glossop within' an hour of sitting in a room with a lady to talk about feelings, but how does one do that without ending up in the chokey?

Driving home in the two seater was more than painful, the presence of Jeeves made them more joyful despite his silent protests against my singing. Even when I drove alone I always knew I'd go back to him, but now I went out without him, now I returned home...without him.

Nods of apologies and condolences were sent my way as I urged myself forwards up toward the flat where it had happened. An attack on the house, the chesterfield was sliced and the piano was positively broken. But yet amongst all that only stood out one thing, Jeeves. I had held him close as Tuppy Glossop called for an ambulance. It was far too late, his short laboured breaths sounded almost painful to breathe, and were painful to hear. In my arms was a man, a paragon amongst all men.

We reached the hospital, him still clinging for life and within' the hour had slipped away. That was my first time seeing a dead body, I'd only seen Jeeves asleep a handful of times but this was nothing like 'being asleep'. I had been told that as a boy, my parents had died at aged six and I was told that mummy and daddy were gone but asleep. I'd only seen Jeeves asleep a handful of times, curled up on the sofa with a book half open in his lap, he looked innocent...vulnerable even, all signs of a the feudal spirit had vanished.

Now I stood alone in front of my mirror preparing myself for the speech yet to come, the most important speech I'd have to make; Jeeves' funeral speech. I scribbled down some words on an envelope but everything was wrong. You can't describe Jeeves as everyone else would described a lost one, he was so much more than that, more than a kind soul or a good man. I imagined him stood behind me now in the reflection, many ties that he'd loathed lay across the top, helping me dress for the day, engaging in playful banter in the morning and saying our goodnights at the end of the day. I had said 'I'll see you later Jeeves' of course I saw him later, just not how I wanted to.

"So Jeeves, what do I wear?" I sighed knowing if I kept up with talking to myself I will permanently end up in the 'loony bin'. A laugh mixed with a sigh passed my lips, I imagined him turning his nose up at all of the ties giving me the cold treatment until I finally gave in and went with his selection. That was often the case, I'd never see those ties again if he had anything to say about it. I wished hard that if he was with me to do something, anything just to prove to me he hadn't truly left.

A ten minute trip in the ambulance felt like hours, an hour in the hospital felt like a lifetime, a lifetime waiting for Jeeves to come back to me. To come back home, to just get through it and be alright. I pleaded with the doctor to make him better, to being someone alive back to me. He arrived no shorter than an hour to say there's complications they cannot fix, nothing can be done and that they'll bring him back to a secluded room for his final hours.

Those final hours were the most shortest hours one could experience, I held his hand, brushed his hair out of his face and watched as his breathing slowed until it came to a final stop. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly agape but his hand twitched in my own as if urging his body to give me some response of reassurance, his hand squeezed my own..then everything stopped, the world and time stopped. I'd never believed the author johnnies but now I truly know what it's like. It couldn't be more heartbreaking to know he was gone, really gone.

Tears threatened to spill as I tied the tie around my neck as a choked up cry left my lips, Jeeves had always straightened me up after dressing giving my shoulders a quick yet subtle brush down before heading out. I'd miss that, the way he'd brush my shoulders, the way he'd bid me goodnight after tucking me in.

I thought back to the time we had jumped overboard off a boat, it took us eight and a half months to get home. By then Jeeves has resulted in resembling a very fluffy puppy and I a matted dog. He was positive we wouldn't make it, but we did. We made it together as Jeeves and Wooster but from now on it's only ever be Bertie Wooster again..

This was it, Jeeves was counting on me to make this speech. I cannot let him down, his family seemed just as eager to get this over with as much as I did  but they didn't know him like I did. They didn't know him at all. The corpus shook being held by just as unstable pins as I breathed in looking out on the people that had admired Jeeves as much as I, and those that knew him professionally.

"Reginald Jeeves," I faced the casket, a speech to him, to he who is laying inside the flower-covered casket, to he who has pulled me out of the soup more times then imaginable and to he who was most importantly, a friend. I tried to speak at the podium, everyone had said their part and yet I had failed mine. But I tried, I really did, I tried for Jeeves.

"Reginald Jeeves, I tried," his volume of Spinoza lay in the centre of fresh flowers on top of the grave, "I tried for you, I'll continue trying." my throat stung with every word. I'd keep trying for Jeeves, to push through his absence..I remembered the first day, how he'd appeared as if by magic, fixing everything that seemed to go wrong. I remembered the last, the paleness of his skin, the coldness of his hand, the warmth of my tears against it and my face. Oh how I missed him. And will confine missing him for as long as I lived.

This is to you, Reginald Jeeves.