It’s the day of funeral. Family members, friends, acquaintances- all are here. I am sitting near the dead body. He is placed in the lawn- his favorite place in the house- where we shared thousands of evening tea. Remembering it, a smile comes on my face. Then I catch myself- this is a funeral, People are crying. It feels like they are all crying for me- “what a tragedy”, “how unfortunate”- I imagine them thinking. I want to tell them that it’s okay, I’m going to be okay. His mother is crying the most. I would have consoled her if it wasn’t for my sister who is consoling me

“I am not even crying!” I want to tell her. The reason I didn’t is that I am supposed to be crying.

“Poor young widow”; “He loved her alot.” “What would become of her now?” These Words have no effects on me and as much as I wish to I cannot get any tears in my eyes.I am lost again in the memory, when only six months ago he fell ill. He was so strong and brave throughout the time which made me less afraid of the already decided future. Day and night I spent with him- nursing him, reading to him, talking to him, and sometimes he talked a little too. I took leave from my job, finances are tight but not so much that I couldn’t provide for his treatment. We also had help from our parents. They were the most scared of all.

Someone said that it was time, and now he is been taken away. I rest my head on my sister’s shoulder. “I’m tired” I hear myself saying, not upset or shattered, just tired. When he is gone, people disperse a little. Slowly, my sister takes me to a room and lay me down.

The next day, is the same as it was five years ago. When I was unmarried and living with my family- except with the addition of my mother in law; and that now this is my home. We have long talks and everyone is so kind to eachother, probably for my sake. If only they would have done the same when we got married.

Weeks have passed now. Everyone is gone. He is gone too, he was the first one to leave. I am making breakfast on a Sunday morning. Tomorrow, I have to get back to work. Everything is falling into place and getting back to normal. I break an egg, and then other and suddenly I burst into tears. The realization hit me like a lightning- he is never going to be here, not in the mornings reading emails, not on his bed sick and weak, not on Sundays to eat his share of omelette. He is gone, for good. And everything is continuing as if he was never here- it all remains as it was- I remain as I was. I want to shout and scream. So I do. I scream loudly without any resistance- it sounded like an animal’s cry. I scream until I hit the kitchen floor shaking uncontrollably without my husband there to console me.


  1. Parna Pal

    The story is good but I think you could, at certain place, write or use the words differently to make it sound more differently. There are some sentence where the apt grammar or the punctuations are not used.

    The last scene where the widow thought about her cry sounding similar to an animal is kind of unrealistic ; a person in extreme pain or grief doesn’t get to focus on anything else ; it also breaks the seriousness of the grief that the widow is expressing.