It was Sunday afternoon, when I got sms, that a lady from neighborhood died. I didn't have much contact with her for very long time. But I will keep her in a special memory, because more then 20 years ago, she made the best swimming suits I ever had.
Funeral was a few days after. Going to the funeral was the worst nightmare I could imagine, especially when I was a little girl. But it is nothing surprisingly about that. Death is mystery and it freak us out. So I always tried to find an excuse, like: »I don't have time...« or »does it have to be at this hour…?« or »it's not like he is going anywhere…«
That was my way of thinking until the first member from my closes family died, my father. Not a single one of this excuses helped anymore. So, let's go.
I was standing at mortuary, so many people were coming and going, condolences... All the sudden I saw things differently. People come, they sacrifice an hour of their time, despite working obligation, they will have less time for their friends and family because of this hour… but they are still here. The one in the grave doesn’t feel this (I suppose so). But I was there and I was the one who felt it. And everyone who came, meant something, actually a lot.
So going to the funeral today, is not something I must do, but I don’t want to and it will torn me off from my job or cut in my free time. It is quiet support of the family, who lost their member. But the family is still here and I will meet them every day in the store, on the road, or at the coffee shop or perhaps just once a year. Look of gratitude in their eyes outweigh that hour of my time, where I could be somewhere else.
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