I’ve just come back from a funeral. She was a former classmate in three subjects, although she belonged to the lower batch. I’m not particularly close to her. Perhaps, aside from the basics, the only other thing I know about her is that she enjoys Football and she was a fantastic artist. We’ve only exchanged a few words before- the occasional “hellos”, academic-related things and that time when she played Futsal for our team in the college tournament. Even so, her death feels surreal. I peered over her casket. I didn’t cry, not like what her close friends and blockmates did, but I found myself asking if it is reality- not some other world like 1Q84. It’s weird. It’s quite different when it is you someone you personally know and see almost every school day. Her white dress and blood-drained face makes it seem like the entire thing is an apparition. Not like the ghostly kind though. It’s more similar to having the sleep paralysis dream. You have to hypothetically knock your head and say, this is real. That cheerful lass in the corridor who sometimes wears Football jerseys is lying down in that white box, sleeping for the rest of reality.
To Therese: All the best and praises to you.