My heart is hurting. I'm finding it hard to breathe, even harder is the arduous task of keeping my lips from quivering. I'm standing against a pillar inside the mosque, literally hugging myself to keep from falling. Having knowledge that this day would come in no way was a preparation for the sight that lay in front of me. The past few days have been extraordinarily difficult and trying for this family. Glancing around the room, I can see some criers like myself, others who prefer to hug, and so many that don't really know how to react. Funerals are those sorts of places, where odd things happen, enemies embrace, friendships are weighed and epiphanies are realized. It's really quite ironic that people think more deeply about life when there is a loss of one. A patriarch of this family has passed and in his own special way has inspired others to look within themselves to find purpose, and appreciation of life.
Arshia a cousin of mine has been leaning against the other side of the pillar, still propping myself up with one hand, I manage to reach with the other. The cool grooves of the pillar are a stark contrast to her warm hand. our tilted heads and eyes meet and in that minuscule moment, a story is shared between us. In my opinion words are overrated.
I love how you use a lot of descriptive language. It really brought me into your piece of writing and put me into your shoes. It reminds me of when my grandfather past away 7 years ago and we knew he was going to pass, but when you hear that news, there is nothing that can prepare you for that.
ReplyDeleteIt also took me a while to figure out what you were talking about which kept me interested as a reader.
I was a little confused as to which patriarch of the family passed. maybe you could be a little bit clearer about that. You also jump to talking about your cousin after discussing the appreciation of life. I think that should be a new paragraph.
I like how you are sharing such a personal moment in your writing. It really helps your story come alive.