Friedrich
There was finally progress. They had recovered some bodies and belongings, which were ready for identification. At first Dan and I decided that we would go. But my mother insisted on going. That put us in a spot, because we didn’t want to leave Claire alone. Yet, we didn’t really know what to expect, and were sure that it wouldn’t be pleasant at the least. So, we didn’t really want Claire to come along.
In the end, we all went.
When we first stepped into the room, I was overwhelmed by how big it was. And on the floor were rows and rows of bodies charred beyond recognition and pieces of personal belongings, also badly burnt.
It was really a numbing experience to walk through the room. It was indescribable.
Dan
When we went into the room, I immediately regretted letting my mother and Claire enter. It was horrendous. I pulled Claire close to me, and tried to shield her eyes from the awful sight. Even my mother, however strong she was, was gripping Gio’s arm tightly as we made our way through.
We never found anything that had belonged to my father, nor did we manage to identify him. It was just as they had said, not to get our hopes high.
It was decided that there would be a mass memorial service the next evening. It was the best they could do for us. We flew back to Venprek the day after.
My mother had decided that we would have a funeral for my father in Venprek. Venprek was after all, his home. Despite not seeing his remains, or any other form of evidence, she had seemed to have accepted his death without living in denial.
On the flight back, I thought I saw tears on her face.
Claire
The only funeral I had ever attended was my grandfather’s.
When I was seven, my mother announced that we were going to Barcelona. We always went there once a year, during the summer to visit my mother’s side of the family. The trip that year was solemn.
At the funeral, even though I was too young to understand, I only needed to look at my parents and my siblings to know that I should keep quiet. At last, I couldn’t resist and asked my brother what was happening. He whispered, “We are saying goodbye to Grandfather.”
I was confused, “Why are there so many people? Where is he?”
“He is inside that coffin, that box.”
I was feeling miserable. It was all too confusing. “Where is he going?”
“To Heaven.”
When I saw my uncles lifting the coffin for the procession, I asked my mother, “ Why are they taking Grandfather to Heaven?”
My mother smiled sadly and answered, “ La muerte es de la vida inseparable hermana.”
Death is the inseparable sister of Life.
Of course I did not understand what she meant at that time. But I pressed on, “Where will he live then? Doesn’t he like his house?”
“He will live in our hearts, Clarissa.”
I decided then that everything was beyond my comprehension, and kept quiet till the funeral was over.
On our subsequent visits to my mother’s old house, my grandmother still took at least five minutes to scrutinize us from head to toe and handed out sweets and cakes freely. However, I never saw my grandfather again, an energetic old man with silvery-gray hair who always had the strength to carry his granddaughter on his shoulders as he took her for walks in the garden. I missed his hearty laughter, which reverberated around the house. I missed the twinkle in his eyes whenever he smiled. To me, he was the nicest man in the world, after my father.
Ten years on, I never thought I would be at the funeral of the nicest man in the world.
My father.
There was finally progress. They had recovered some bodies and belongings, which were ready for identification. At first Dan and I decided that we would go. But my mother insisted on going. That put us in a spot, because we didn’t want to leave Claire alone. Yet, we didn’t really know what to expect, and were sure that it wouldn’t be pleasant at the least. So, we didn’t really want Claire to come along.
In the end, we all went.
When we first stepped into the room, I was overwhelmed by how big it was. And on the floor were rows and rows of bodies charred beyond recognition and pieces of personal belongings, also badly burnt.
It was really a numbing experience to walk through the room. It was indescribable.
Dan
When we went into the room, I immediately regretted letting my mother and Claire enter. It was horrendous. I pulled Claire close to me, and tried to shield her eyes from the awful sight. Even my mother, however strong she was, was gripping Gio’s arm tightly as we made our way through.
We never found anything that had belonged to my father, nor did we manage to identify him. It was just as they had said, not to get our hopes high.
It was decided that there would be a mass memorial service the next evening. It was the best they could do for us. We flew back to Venprek the day after.
My mother had decided that we would have a funeral for my father in Venprek. Venprek was after all, his home. Despite not seeing his remains, or any other form of evidence, she had seemed to have accepted his death without living in denial.
On the flight back, I thought I saw tears on her face.
Claire
The only funeral I had ever attended was my grandfather’s.
When I was seven, my mother announced that we were going to Barcelona. We always went there once a year, during the summer to visit my mother’s side of the family. The trip that year was solemn.
At the funeral, even though I was too young to understand, I only needed to look at my parents and my siblings to know that I should keep quiet. At last, I couldn’t resist and asked my brother what was happening. He whispered, “We are saying goodbye to Grandfather.”
I was confused, “Why are there so many people? Where is he?”
“He is inside that coffin, that box.”
I was feeling miserable. It was all too confusing. “Where is he going?”
“To Heaven.”
When I saw my uncles lifting the coffin for the procession, I asked my mother, “ Why are they taking Grandfather to Heaven?”
My mother smiled sadly and answered, “ La muerte es de la vida inseparable hermana.”
Death is the inseparable sister of Life.
Of course I did not understand what she meant at that time. But I pressed on, “Where will he live then? Doesn’t he like his house?”
“He will live in our hearts, Clarissa.”
I decided then that everything was beyond my comprehension, and kept quiet till the funeral was over.
On our subsequent visits to my mother’s old house, my grandmother still took at least five minutes to scrutinize us from head to toe and handed out sweets and cakes freely. However, I never saw my grandfather again, an energetic old man with silvery-gray hair who always had the strength to carry his granddaughter on his shoulders as he took her for walks in the garden. I missed his hearty laughter, which reverberated around the house. I missed the twinkle in his eyes whenever he smiled. To me, he was the nicest man in the world, after my father.
Ten years on, I never thought I would be at the funeral of the nicest man in the world.
My father.
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