It was a surreal experience. Everyone was dressed to the nines but no one was here to celebrate. I could count on the fingers of my hands as to who I actually knew. A lot of people came to see you.
From my position, I could see the line form as long to the double door entrance of the place. A great deal of time would pass before those in the back had their chance. My fingers grace the lacquered finish of your final resting place. I thought it interesting. Had it been me, there would be any kind of finish. Just a simple wooden box befitting a pauper, and my body wrapped in a white cloth of some type, naked underneath. That would've been the Muslim way. We're all just empty shells when we die. There's no need for all of this when we go for there's something awaiting us in the after. That's the belief anyway. There would've been no open casket for me.
You look rather peaceful, or whatever the mortician thought was what peaceful looked like. I felt like using my fingers and nudging just a bit of a smile. Give you some sort of emotion; what I thought of you to be. Peaceful you were certainly not but happy, you were always happy. My heart was breaking inside yet I showed little emotion. I kept my eyes watery and did my best not to let tears flow. Not that you were undeserving of my tears. You were. What good would it have done here? Now? You were the one that instilled the idea of celebration in and of life. I did my best.
As I walk through your home during your wake, I catch bits of conversations about you. Everyone loved you. Some people asked who I was and they would know me even though I have never seen them before until this day. We were inseparable. I walk into the living room and see your mother. My first instinct was to turn around and get the hell out of there. She always had this look when she saw me. You probably blamed me whenever you got in trouble but that's ok. I did the same to you.
She called out to me and asked me to come over and for a fleeting moment, I thought about running the other way but that really would've been awkward. I walked over and she embraced me like never before because, well, she never embraced me at all. She said nothing but I could feel her pain and it was heavy. I wanted to do something to ease her pain and the best I could so was tell her that I loved you as a brother and that you still live on within me as you taught me things that I will continue to carry with me until it's my time to go. She released her bear hug of an embrace, wiped her tears and kissed my cheek before giving me yet another choking hug.
That was over 20 years ago and to this day I miss you. It'd would've been grand to be able to grow with you, and see how you would've turned out. Your life was cut short but you lived a happy one. Tell your mother that probably a quarter of the times you got into trouble was because of me but she probably already knows that.
From my position, I could see the line form as long to the double door entrance of the place. A great deal of time would pass before those in the back had their chance. My fingers grace the lacquered finish of your final resting place. I thought it interesting. Had it been me, there would be any kind of finish. Just a simple wooden box befitting a pauper, and my body wrapped in a white cloth of some type, naked underneath. That would've been the Muslim way. We're all just empty shells when we die. There's no need for all of this when we go for there's something awaiting us in the after. That's the belief anyway. There would've been no open casket for me.
You look rather peaceful, or whatever the mortician thought was what peaceful looked like. I felt like using my fingers and nudging just a bit of a smile. Give you some sort of emotion; what I thought of you to be. Peaceful you were certainly not but happy, you were always happy. My heart was breaking inside yet I showed little emotion. I kept my eyes watery and did my best not to let tears flow. Not that you were undeserving of my tears. You were. What good would it have done here? Now? You were the one that instilled the idea of celebration in and of life. I did my best.
As I walk through your home during your wake, I catch bits of conversations about you. Everyone loved you. Some people asked who I was and they would know me even though I have never seen them before until this day. We were inseparable. I walk into the living room and see your mother. My first instinct was to turn around and get the hell out of there. She always had this look when she saw me. You probably blamed me whenever you got in trouble but that's ok. I did the same to you.
She called out to me and asked me to come over and for a fleeting moment, I thought about running the other way but that really would've been awkward. I walked over and she embraced me like never before because, well, she never embraced me at all. She said nothing but I could feel her pain and it was heavy. I wanted to do something to ease her pain and the best I could so was tell her that I loved you as a brother and that you still live on within me as you taught me things that I will continue to carry with me until it's my time to go. She released her bear hug of an embrace, wiped her tears and kissed my cheek before giving me yet another choking hug.
That was over 20 years ago and to this day I miss you. It'd would've been grand to be able to grow with you, and see how you would've turned out. Your life was cut short but you lived a happy one. Tell your mother that probably a quarter of the times you got into trouble was because of me but she probably already knows that.
