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Louis pressed his forehead against the wooden edge of the coffin, gripping it tightly as if trying to hold on to what he had already lost.
"Elena... I'm sorry. You have every right to hate me. But please... if there's any part of you that can forgive me... let me carry you to your final resting place."
Then something amazing happened.
The coffin moved—just a little, but enough for everyone to notice.
The shaman nodded silently. "She is calm."
The young men tried again. This time, the coffin rose smoothly and effortlessly. The sound of the trumpet rose again, guiding Elena on her final journey. The mourners stepped aside, bowing their heads in respect, their hearts heavy with what they had lost.
The Burden of Life
As the procession moved forward, Louis knelt in the mud, his tears mixing with the rain. His mother approached him, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder.
But Louis didn't feel her touch. He was lost in memories, trapped in apologies that were too late to hear.
He will carry it
Pain for the rest of his life—not just the memory of his lost love, but the haunting image of her tear-stained face. The face that once smiled at him. The face that, even in silence, cried out for comfort.
There are mistakes that time cannot heal. Words that cannot be taken back. And some wounds… leave echoes that last forever.
But in the silence that followed the farewell, as the rain began to ease and the last trumpet note faded into the distance, one truth remained:
Love requires care. Attention. Honesty.
And when it is taken for granted, it leaves behind not only sadness – but also a silence that never stops speaking.
