Death is strangely strong. It was on Saturday around 8:30 in the morning that we got to the funeral home. We both were tired. We had a long drive and it was rainy all the way from Princeton to Fairfield. It wasn’t fair. How could it be fair? I asked myself over and over; no satisfying answer!
Death is strongly strange. It was hard to go in and face the family. It was hard to hear the trembling voice of a father reading from Quran for his son. It was hard to hear the memories that never can change the reality and hopelessly try to fill the space between the death and the life. It was hard to see the pain and sorrow in their eyes, in the eyes that never looked at anyone unkindly, the horrible pain that shrunk a man to a moving shadow, the pain of losing a child.
How can it be fair? How can death of a 19 year old be fair? In my life I have seen more parents wore black in their child’s funeral than the children in their parents funeral. Yet it was another sudden death and the best thing I could do was to cry, pray and wish them patience.
Then I got worried for my little brother. I called him after the funeral and told him if he dies when he shouldn’t I won’t forgive him for not being there. I told him that I never forgive him if he denies me the memories that we still can build together. I told him that I never forgive him because then mom and dad will love him more than me; he knows how jealous of him I am and he has to consider that before doing anything stupid. After this and some more threats he asked me what has happened. I told him and he assured me that if I don’t kill him he has no plan to die yet. Then he added: when you got married I though I can live my life, but once again I was wrong. And then he sent his sympathy for my husband and wished him patience in his life with me.
Death is strangely strong and at the same time strongly strange.
Death is strongly strange. It was hard to go in and face the family. It was hard to hear the trembling voice of a father reading from Quran for his son. It was hard to hear the memories that never can change the reality and hopelessly try to fill the space between the death and the life. It was hard to see the pain and sorrow in their eyes, in the eyes that never looked at anyone unkindly, the horrible pain that shrunk a man to a moving shadow, the pain of losing a child.
How can it be fair? How can death of a 19 year old be fair? In my life I have seen more parents wore black in their child’s funeral than the children in their parents funeral. Yet it was another sudden death and the best thing I could do was to cry, pray and wish them patience.
Then I got worried for my little brother. I called him after the funeral and told him if he dies when he shouldn’t I won’t forgive him for not being there. I told him that I never forgive him if he denies me the memories that we still can build together. I told him that I never forgive him because then mom and dad will love him more than me; he knows how jealous of him I am and he has to consider that before doing anything stupid. After this and some more threats he asked me what has happened. I told him and he assured me that if I don’t kill him he has no plan to die yet. Then he added: when you got married I though I can live my life, but once again I was wrong. And then he sent his sympathy for my husband and wished him patience in his life with me.
Death is strangely strong and at the same time strongly strange.
1 comment:
My dear Roja,it was very nice.In the sad part it was exactly sorrowful and effective and in the part of your conversation with your brother it was the symbol of life which will go on after any death with it's funny and sweets and also bitterness.
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