Yesterday at 3 AM in the morning we got a call saying that my mothers great aunt had passed away. Everyone had seen that coming so in the morning we were to go see the body.
It was 10 AM and were driving to the funeral. I was hearing Duncan Sheiks’ “Barely Breathing” on my left ear and to my right i was hearing my father.
He tells me this joke at every possible funeral for the past 18 years.
“Do you know what R.I.P stands for?”
And I for the past 18 years reply by saying “Oh thats easy, Rest In Piece.”
To which he replies “Nope, Its Return If Possible”
And he laughs loud and I die a little inside.
The funeral was a typical muslim funeral. We ended up at the graveyard at around 4.30. I watched as her two sons get into the burial ground and under a cover they rest their mother at her final place. Two balls of mud were placed, one at her head and another at her feet. My dad later told me that it helped decomposition.
Once her sons got out, red eyed. We each took a handfull of dirt and threw it in after her. A final goodbye. I watched the two brothers who just laid their mother to rest. Both were always loud at a function, the life of the crowd. Just this time the crowd was here but the purpose was different.
I looked at dad who was leaning against the car, chilling as usual pulling on a benson and noticed that he had got his first white hair on his eye brow.
I realized that I wasn’t the only one getting older. And I dread the day that I get into that pit to bury my own.