Unable to Endure His Wife’s Funeral
Alex could no longer stand the suffocating heaviness of the ceremony. The heat, the sleepless nights, and the sheer weight of grief gnawed at him. The words of comfort from friends and relatives blurred into a dull hum.
“I need to step away,” he whispered to Mary, his sister-in-law, as another mourner began a long speech about how Olivia had once helped him through hard times.
“Of course, dear. Go. We’ll finish everything here,” Mary replied softly, her eyes full of sympathy as she took in Alex’s pale, exhausted face.
He nodded and turned away, walking slowly down the gravel path that led from the grave to the cemetery gates. Behind him, the voices continued, but he didn’t look back. The farewell was done.
Olivia was gone.
He didn’t know how to live without her. What was the point of waking up? What was the point of work, plans, or dreams of the future? Everything he had imagined for his life had been tied to her.
As Alex reached the old iron gates of the cemetery, his eyes caught a small figure seated on a weathered wooden bench. A girl — perhaps ten or eleven — sat there in a coat far too big for her thin frame. Her dark eyes were serious, too old for her young face. Before her on the ground was a rusty tin can with a few coins scattered inside.
“Uncle, spare some for bread,” she said quietly as Alex passed by. Her voice was soft, but there was something steady in it that made him pause.
He reached into his pocket without thinking. Two crisp hundred-dollar bills and some loose change. What did it matter anymore?
“Here,” he said, dropping the bills into her can.
The girl’s eyes widened. “Uncle, that’s way too much. Are you sure? Maybe you made a mistake?”
“I’m sure,” Alex replied dully, already turning toward his car.
“Uncle,” the girl called after him.
He stopped and turned. She was standing now, holding the can, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that rooted him to the spot.
“Uncle… your wife is alive,” she said in a clear, even tone. “But it won’t make things better for you. Come with me.”
Alex froze.
The world seemed to stop. The distant murmur of voices, the rustle of leaves, even the soft cries from the cemetery — all fell silent. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.
“What did you just say?” His voice was hoarse.
“What I said,” the girl answered simply. She stepped closer, her serious eyes never leaving his. “Don’t just stand there. Time’s short. Come with me.”
Before Alex could speak, she turned and walked quickly down a narrow path that led away from the road, deeper into the woods.
Clutching the cemetery’s cold iron gate for support, Alex hesitated — then, as though pulled by an unseen force, followed her into the shadowed path…
“Of course, dear. Go. We’ll finish everything here,” Mary replied softly, her eyes full of sympathy as she took in Alex’s pale, exhausted face.
He nodded and turned away, walking slowly down the gravel path that led from the grave to the cemetery gates. Behind him, the voices continued, but he didn’t look back. The farewell was done.
Olivia was gone.
He didn’t know how to live without her. What was the point of waking up? What was the point of work, plans, or dreams of the future? Everything he had imagined for his life had been tied to her.
As Alex reached the old iron gates of the cemetery, his eyes caught a small figure seated on a weathered wooden bench. A girl — perhaps ten or eleven — sat there in a coat far too big for her thin frame. Her dark eyes were serious, too old for her young face. Before her on the ground was a rusty tin can with a few coins scattered inside.
“Uncle, spare some for bread,” she said quietly as Alex passed by. Her voice was soft, but there was something steady in it that made him pause.
He reached into his pocket without thinking. Two crisp hundred-dollar bills and some loose change. What did it matter anymore?
“Here,” he said, dropping the bills into her can.
The girl’s eyes widened. “Uncle, that’s way too much. Are you sure? Maybe you made a mistake?”
“I’m sure,” Alex replied dully, already turning toward his car.
“Uncle,” the girl called after him.
He stopped and turned. She was standing now, holding the can, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that rooted him to the spot.
“Uncle… your wife is alive,” she said in a clear, even tone. “But it won’t make things better for you. Come with me.”
Alex froze.
The world seemed to stop. The distant murmur of voices, the rustle of leaves, even the soft cries from the cemetery — all fell silent. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.
“What did you just say?” His voice was hoarse.
“What I said,” the girl answered simply. She stepped closer, her serious eyes never leaving his. “Don’t just stand there. Time’s short. Come with me.”
Before Alex could speak, she turned and walked quickly down a narrow path that led away from the road, deeper into the woods.
Clutching the cemetery’s cold iron gate for support, Alex hesitated — then, as though pulled by an unseen force, followed her into the shadowed path…
