Non-fiction

Letting go

She was there. At the funeral of her closest friend. All she did was pray for him to wake up. But he couldn’t even if she wished. Even if he heard her. He was all ashes now.
There were a lot of flowers, flowers he did not like. No one cried. Most of them reminisced with bursts of laughter as if it were all a joke. There were a few songs, some of which she had heard before.
She stood up in front of the attendees and recited the poem they wrote together. She stopped halfway. Because in truth, there were no words to put on paper that would have reflected him. That would have captured his essence in 5 minutes. She had to go on. They did not allow her to give into tears. And so she spoke without referencing to the paper. It came from the heart. It was heartfelt, heavy and overwhelmingly truthful. It was refreshing to hear the good, the bad and the surprising about the deceased. It was enlightening as well. No one could tell how she felt the moment she left the podium.
After the ceremony, they gave her his urn, so that she kept him. But they did not realize that she will no longer see him whole again, never feel the warmth of his embrace, never laugh till tears fell from his eyes and lost a bit of breath before he could apologize.
So she went to river where they used to play and laugh and sing and recite poetry. it was there, that they met, that their eyes met as the sunset slowly hid beneath the clouds in the horizon. She remembered how strong he was, how kind and gentle and how brutally honest. In the end, after tears and memories of 2013 passed through the ripples, she let him become part of it. That is how she felt letting go of the grief and embracing his life was. How life was.

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