Home was a place she imagined everything felt beautiful and when they were not, it was a place she could cry alone to herself without being told it wasn’t acceptable to cry so loudly or she wasn’t supposed to feel pain in the way that she did.
When you go to a funeral that you are invited to, you visualize that you share in the pain of the bereaved and while you may do, you do not. It might be a lot – your sadness, but it is never enough. You may cry, in a way that depicts sadness to the natural gaze of others but you do not really feel the pain.
Oft she had been to many funerals in her life but this was different because in others she had cried when others cried and laughed when there was a reason to laugh but today nothing seemed to obey the rule of reason. For if reason was a rule and not an exception then how the hell was the love of her life lying in a wooden box high atop the shoulders of his best friends. Smiling with them, but refusing to speak with her because although he wanted to do so he had lost the will to act on his desires.
Although you may not agree, it was beautiful – death, yes, was a beauty. Because for the first time everybody wasn’t busy all at once. Everyone, here had managed to free up their schedule and that was why death was a beauty. It gave everyone a chance to remember that at a point in their lives, they had had someone whom they collectively valued, cherished and loved but who now they couldn’t have back because death wanted to feel the warmth they had felt and the life this person gave to them.
It was incredible because before today, she thought she had found the love she couldn’t give herself and the life to continue living but how could she keep living when this life was somehow going away under her watch and she couldn’t tell to it that it wasn’t yet the time?
It wasn’t long before this dark day was over. The day when it all became so real. A lot of people came to share in her sadness and she was proud. Their support was surreal. But when the funeral came to an end they all left in the way they had come and none cared to stay.
Everyone went home, except her, for though she appeared to be home, she wasn’t at home. Her home had moved without letting her come along. Her home now had a new location in the graveyard, quite full but never accommodating.
That was a week ago. Here she stood smiling. After days of waiting, she finally saw her husband again. She had never been happier than she was now but not for long for she knew. She knew that she would have to wake up soon and somehow she began to cry from her dreams back to reality.
She figured that she would have to thank everyone for their interminable support. She thought she would tell them: when they go for a funeral and go home, someone else went to that funeral and couldn’t go back home because they had been gifted a new home they didn’t ask for but got anyway.
Thirty and two days ago, she went to a funeral, misplaced her address and never went back home. It wasn’t the end of her. It was the beginning.
(All images excerpted from the Internet.)