I was never great with funerals.
Usually, I tried to find an excuse not to go. Well, to be honest, I tried to find an excuse to get out of most of the things.
But sometimes you get stuck.
A friend from work didn’t want to go to a funeral alone. So, duty called. He was a good guy, and I felt bad. Also, I couldn’t think of a reason to get out of it fast enough.
On the brighter side, it was a nice funeral.
There was a light drizzle. Everyone carried black umbrellas.
But then I wasn’t even sure who had died. My friend told me of course, but I have this tendency of not paying attention to things I want to get out of.
I was just a friend there as a show of support. So I was left alone. A large group of people gathered in the cemetery, so large that it exceeded the number of chairs. The seats were reserved for family and I stayed as far back as possible. There were a couple of other smaller funerals going on, and many people were visiting graves of their dear ones.
I saw a young woman wearing a dark purple coat.
I was wearing my best suit and well, I gave it a shot.
“Come here often?” I asked.
“First time, actually,” she said, turning her head up.
“Oh, me too.”
She went back to looking at the stone one last time before standing.
I couldn’t see the writing on the stone. I just saw an M and the first numbers in a date.
“What’s your name? .” I asked.
“Maya,” she said.
“Well, you’re dressed too nice to work here. So, I assume you’re here for a reason.”
“I actually dress like this everyday.”
“It’s a good day for a funeral,” she said, looking at my umbrella.
Just then, the rain picked up, giving me the perfect gentlemanly opportunity.
“Here”, I said extending the umbrella, “if you don’t mind standing over there we can share.”
And so we walked back to the funeral.
The woman looked confused.
“There are more people than I thought.”
“Oh did you know the person?” I asked.
She smiled. “I should. It’s my funeral.”