As we entered the half-closed gates to the church, groups of guests dressed in black, carrying on hushed conversations could be seen. Closer we walked, the heavy atmosphere made my heart beat faster and I crept closer to my friend. No one came to welcome us. We were pretty much left there, not knowing what to do, not knowing where to go. Not that I was expecting any form of invitation whatsoever, so we made our way over to the only lit room that was englufed by the surrounding darkness. Standing in the doorway, looking at the picture in between the candles on the table, the air was filled with the sweet scent of crysenthemum that lined the two walls and the air was filled with the prayers coming from a radio. And as if it were contagious, the heaviness atmosphere filled our hearts all too suddenly. I wanted to cry. For what? I do not know. The sight of it all was disheartening, and all I could do was to offer my prayers and deepest symphathy through a tight hug. I didn't know what to say, in fear of seeing her tears...


I did not know the decesed directly. But I knew who he would leave behind and it was nice to see how close ij family is. One tragic event that resulted in everyone coming together one way or another. Stay strong... Mrs Low.
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