I sat there, like I was in dreamland, as I realised that the boy I walked with everyday, the sweets we shared together, and the times when we played football on the streets, that person was out of my life and out of his family’s life. I was asking my self at that moment “Is this real?”. I could never believe that this is true.
As I glanced around me, there were people packed inside the funeral hall. They all just sat there like wax statues, many people weeping and mourning, but most of them just sitting patiently waiting for the funeral service to start. I still remember looking at a grief-stricken mother. The expressions I saw on her face, and looking at what she was going through was very hard to describe. Tears continued to trickle from my eyes, as I saw her eyes so red and inflamed, also swollen, it was like her eyes were going to pop out all of a sudden. I saw her use tissue after tissue, but inside me I knew that no tissue would wipe any of out tears forever. I can also remember seeing people going to her, and giving her presents, nice flowers and cards. They were all giving their deepest heart-felt expressions of compassion to her, bit I knew that no matter how expensive their gifts were, how well-written their cards were, how elaborate their flowers were it was all vanity, because none of these things could bring a son back, a cousin and a best friend alive again.
I also memorized different people standing up on stage, and reciting various poems of comfort and hope. Others were saying nice things about him and how sorry they were that he had to die so young in a tragic accident. As I sat there listening, I looked at his body, he was just laying there like a wax statue. I thought to myself, if only he would be alive for just one more minute, so he could experience the lovely things people have said about him, the flowers and cards, and all the pain his family had gone through. Frustration and anger mounted upon me, as the thought of her not being able to move, to talk, to touch or to feel again. For the first time I really have been this angry, angry because I have to see all these strange people coming on stage and making their feelings known, when that individual who they are referring to is dead, he cannot hear what they are all saying. So what is the use of saying he was so special, when most of the people didn’t make him feel that way when he was alive. At that moment, I realised how special life is, and how important it is to tell all the people we really love how special they are, not saying it when they have passed away. As I stared there, I really regretted telling my cousin brother, how special he was and how much he meant to my life.
As the funeral service was coming to a close, many people went up to the body, to give a final respect by placing a flower, it was like the flower represented life; flowers are fresh and beautiful only for a certain period of time but then they will just wither away, which is such a comparison with humans. As I laid my flower beside his body I touched his hand. It felt really cold, icy, just like a flake of snow, tears were still bucketing down my face, as my heart started thumping so violently just like a loud Indian drum. As I had my hand clutched so tightly on his, I began to pray to god, asking him to bring my cousin back alive. However no matter how hard and how genuine my prayers were it was obviously to no real use. When I let go of her hand, so many emotions went through me, the feeling of loss really came across me, as it was only then that I realised that I had lost one of my best friend forever.