They never saw him again.
He left one night with a few friends on a trek and fell into a ditch so deep that it was perhaps a valley. They never found his body.
His family and fiancee rested their heads on an empty coffin and cried. They ran their hands over the wooden lid with the same intensity with which they'd have touched his face. His mother took off her purple scarf and placed it inside the coffin. She said "It was to keep him warm"
They lowered it and dropped the soil. They shut their eyes and prayed that his body, wherever it was, wasn't subject to anything harsh.
Even weeks later, a doorbell would ring and the mother would hope against hope that her son and returned to announce that he hadn't really died.
The lack of closure is perhaps the hardest thing.
He left one night with a few friends on a trek and fell into a ditch so deep that it was perhaps a valley. They never found his body.
His family and fiancee rested their heads on an empty coffin and cried. They ran their hands over the wooden lid with the same intensity with which they'd have touched his face. His mother took off her purple scarf and placed it inside the coffin. She said "It was to keep him warm"
They lowered it and dropped the soil. They shut their eyes and prayed that his body, wherever it was, wasn't subject to anything harsh.
Even weeks later, a doorbell would ring and the mother would hope against hope that her son and returned to announce that he hadn't really died.
The lack of closure is perhaps the hardest thing.
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