The funeral band’s slow, melancholy melody blended with the steady drizzle on the corrugated metal roof. The yard’s center included a gold-painted casket on two solid wooden seats under an improvised cover. Rows of black mourners with umbrellas dripping rain sat around it, heads lowered. Grief was as heavy as damp air.
That coffin held Elena, 25, who died too young.
Elena has been the Carter family’s heart since she married. She treated her in-laws like her parents—kind, humble, and polite. She never considered a task or act of love too minor. Her mother-in-law, Helen Carter, proudly told neighbors, “A daughter-in-law like Elena is a blessing you only receive once in a lifetime.”
Now she was gone.
Elena died during childbirth. Preterm labor, they said. The ache was sudden—late one night, she grasped her stomach and toppled over. Her husband Louis rushed her to the hospital, but the doctors were late. Their baby never cried, and Elena never opened her eyes.
News made Helen faint. Louis stared at the hospital wall in silence, as if his world had ended. Even more than his wife, he buried part of himself that night.
Elena’s dazzling grin was trapped in time in the coffin lid shot. Her eyes glittered like she was laughing softly, alive. Her body lay lifeless in the casket, and the house that had once laughed with her was now silent.
Carry her to her final rest.
Eight muscular young men lifted the casket. They braced and bent down to lift it. Nothing happened.
They tried again. Still nothing. The gold-painted box remained still.
The puzzled guys bent again, straining, red-faced, and flexing. However, the casket felt grounded.
A murmur sounded among mourners. Whispers spread rapidly. An older neighbor groaned and shook his head. “She’s not ready,” he whispered. “Her soul remains. She’s not done.”
After standing calmly near the canopy, the shaman moved forward. His palm was on the coffin as he whispered. He raised his voice so everyone could hear.
“Open the casket,” he said. “She has something to say.”
Gasped Helen. “No, we can’t.” But something deep inside her stirred. Motherly instinct. Mother-in-law love.
Shaking, she approached the casket. Her voice cracked as she urged, “Open it. “Please. Whatever she has to say, we must listen.
Latch opened. Lifting the lid creaked slowly.
There were gasps.
Elena looked still but oddly alive. Her eyes were half-closed and her long lashes moist, like she had cried. Two shiny tears ran down her pale cheeks. In death, she cried.
Helen kneeled beside the coffin, holding Elena’s chilly hand with both. Her sobbing rocked her.
“My child…my sweet Elena,” she whispered. “Why are you crying? What load accompanied you till death? Please inform us of any remaining questions. I implore…
Shocked, the yard fell silent. Rain appeared to pause its breath.
An abrupt sound blasted through.
Sobbing.
Raw, broken. Heart-wrenching.
Everyone watched Louis. The husband. The man who had never sobbed publicly until now.
He was on his knees on the cold, muddy ground, his hands covering his face, sobbing like torrents.
Helen turned to him, shaking. “Louis? Its what? Did you hear her? My son, what is it?
Louis slowly looked up. He had red, swollen eyes and tears on his face.
He coughed out, “I… I did this.” It was my fault. “She died with a broken heart because of me.”
The audience gasped. Helen hid her mouth in shock. Shocked, neighbors leaned closer.
Louis swallowed hard, his voice raspy. On that night, she discovered my relationship with someone else.
More gasps. The rain persisted.
“She did not scream or fight. She simply looked at me. She wailed holding her stomach. All night. She remained silent. I informed her of my breakup, stating that I didn’t mean it. I was too late.”
Shoulders shook. Broken words came from him.
She hurt later that night. Although I took her to the hospital, it was too late. The baby and she were lost.”
He hid his face in his hands. I apologize, Elena. Sorry, so sorry. I never deserved you.”
Silence.
The audience froze. No one spoke. Even the trumpeter stopped.
Shocked, Helen recoiled. Her voice was almost a whisper when it came.
“Oh my god… Elena, my daughter-in-law I failed to safeguard you. “I didn’t see your pain…
Crawling toward the coffin, she laid her head beside Elena’s lifeless face. My child, forgive me. Forgive us both…”
Louis approached, carefully holding the coffin edge. I understand your anger at me. You should. You can despise me, Elena. I’d comprehend. Please allow me to take you home. Let me carry you to rest. Please…”
A moment passed without action.
Under gray sky and with all eyes staring, the casket trembled slightly.
The shaman nodded earnestly. “She let go.”
8 young lads approached again. This time, the casket lifted easily—almost lightly.
As light as air.
The melancholy trumpet resumed, as the procession slowly approached the road. As Elena was executed, mourners bowed and parted solemnly.
Louis stayed on his knees, tears mixed with rain on his cheeks. He stayed put. He couldn’t. He could only repeat her name in hopes that her soul would hear.
After that, Louis never remarried. All his possessions except the modest house where they resided were given away. He filled Elena’s former room with her photos, journals, and favorite flowers to memorialize her.
He kneeled at her grave every anniversary, muttering apologies and bringing sunflowers, her favorite. He sometimes thought the breeze touched his face like her fingers.
Helen changed too. The proud matriarch softened and quieted. She joined a bereaved parent support group and helped new mothers by providing a food, a listening ear, or a place to grieve.
They never forgot the woman who brightened their lives.
They gazed up every time it poured, wondering if Elena was crying again or letting go one tear at a time.