A BURIAL FROM A DEAD PERSON'S PERSPECTIVE

It became more chilly as more people swept into the compound. They all wore long mournful faces. Another distinct thing, most of them wore oversized black clothes. I didn’t understand what occasion was happening without my knowledge in our house. I saw a lot of sad unfamiliar faces inside our living room. As I wandered around the house with a big surprised look, none of those people did as much as look in my direction which is the most unusual thing. In this house I got with my husband, every visitor we ever had was either for me or him who always made sure to show me to them. Today, it was different. I didn’t know them and it was more like they couldn’t even see me. As I went on the way to the master bedroom I shared with my husband, I bumped into a crying child. No, she passed through me. I couldn’t understand any of it, I hurried away to look for the man I had married against all odds a week ago, maybe he could explain. The bedroom door was open with the giant wall portrait of my husband's favorite picture of me in complete view from the outside. There was an opposing sight, him. My husband was kneeling in front and crying silently but bitterly. He was crying so much, he didn’t even hear me call his name severally while standing very close to him. I reached out to hold him and yet again, his face passed gracefully through my hands.