The Day I Died

I asked a friend how he managed to be calm after receiving the news that his Brother died. He muttered a smile, took out a cigar and remained silent for a few seconds. I was waiting for his response but at the same time relieved with the quietness of the moment.

He played with the smoke for a while. His cigarrette slowly detonating his response.

"I am calm" he simply said. He was struggling for words. His face forming into an unreadable expression. He puffed a large smoke and for moment his face was painted with pain. My vision cleared as he swallowed to clear his throat.

"I am calm...", he paused as if waging a battle inside his mind. Before I could provide a comfortable response he continued "...for I've seen my brother died before".

My mouth dropped waiting for a clear explanation. He looked at me and simply said the following; "Everynight, before going to sleep. I close my eyes and imagine a funeral. I imagine people in black clothing; children playing and old people crying. I imagine the smell of the flowers sent by friends. I taste the finger-food served to visitors. I see old and familiar faces. I see myself silent sitting near a coffin. I always see myself calm." He paused and inhaled a puff of smoke.

"I usually end my imagination by walking towards the coffin...and see different people I love inside the box..everynight."

"Every night?" I asked. "Yes. And I always cry myself to sleep".

He smiled and said "I even saw you last night."

We were silent for the rest of the day and I pitied his calmness.