Behind the Veil

Comforting warmth of the sun brushed my face with its gentle touch. I laid my back against the earth, golden straws tickled my bare feet as I was thoroughly enchanted by the orchestra of the meadows. Crickets played the quartets, bees and flies sang along with the sorrowful melody.

That idle moment of the early autumn eve reminded me of my parents.

Oh, how I missed them.

I missed them, even though we talked quite often. In fact, I had just talked to them this morning. My mother had looked at me, smiling, and asked if I would like milk with my sad, unseasoned porridge. My father had read the paper with the same, contemplating expression he always had, absent-mindedly stirring his coffee.

Mother had always hated that unbearable sound of spoon jangling and clinking on the porcelain mug. They would bicker, their words twisting into anger the longer they did. My mood was glum and my head heavy with worry.

Had we finished escorting my parents to the earth, my mind would have been at peace.

I heard my mother singing to the wistful melody from the funeral home. Father chuckled and joined her, their voices entwining together as one. Eyes glistening, I listened to their song, not daring to move.

They danced amongst the ashes, in the midst of the remains of the roaring fire that had removed them from this world.

Yet, there I laid, watching them from afar. I was peeking behind the curtain that was never supposed to be opened.

"From the earth, we are born and to the dust, we must return," a whisper trembled off my lips as I closed my eyes, hoping the visions would fade away once I opened them again.

Oh, how very wrong I was.