The mournful sound of the funeral trumpets echoed, blending with the pattering of rain on the old corrugated iron roof.
In the middle of the yard, a gold-painted coffin was placed on two wooden chairs. All around, mourners sat tightly, each bowing their heads in sorrow for Elena – the gentle daughter-in-law who had passed away due to premature birth.
Elena was only 25 years old. Since becoming a daughter-in-law, she had always respected her elders and taken care of her parents-in-law like her own. Mrs. Helen – Elena’s mother-in-law – was still proud: “Any family with a daughter-in-law like Lan is a great blessing.” But after a little over a year, disaster struck.
That night, Elena had severe stomach pain, clutching her stomach and sobbing. By the time she was taken to the hospital, she was exhausted. Before the baby could cry out at birth, Elena passed out, never to wake up again.
The whole family was devastated. Mrs. Helen cried and fainted.
Mr. Louis – her husband – sat silently, his eyes lifeless as he looked at his daughter-in-law’s portrait placed on the coffin lid. In the photo, Elena smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
When it was time to move the coffin, eight young men stepped forward, put their hands on both sides of the coffin, and prepared to carry it to the hearse. But strangely, no matter how hard they tried to lift it, the coffin would not budge. Everyone’s face was red, the veins on their hands stood out, but the coffin seemed stuck to the ground. An old man in the neighborhood sighed: “She must still be upset and can’t leave yet.”
The shaman standing nearby said softly:
“Open the coffin, she still has something to say.”
The latch was removed. When the coffin lid was lifted, everyone was stunned. On Elena’s face, two lines of tears still lingered. Her eyes were half-closed, the corners of her eyelashes were wet as if she had cried. Mrs. Helen burst into tears, knelt beside the coffin, grabbed her daughter-in-law’s hand, her voice trembling:
“Elena… don’t cry anymore… If there’s anything you haven’t said, please tell me… I beg you, my child…”
The funeral atmosphere was dead silent.
Suddenly, a sob rang out. Everyone looked towards Louis – Elena’s husband. He fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, sobbing. Everyone was surprised. Mrs. Helen turned around, her voice broken:
“Louis… what are you doing… Did you hear what Elena said?”
Louis raised his head, his face covered in tears, his eyes red, his voice broken, choked:
“It was my fault… I made her leave in pain…”
The whole yard was silent, only the sound of heavy rain could be heard. Louis sobbed, looking at his wife’s tear-stained face:
“That day… she found out I had someone else… She didn’t say anything, only held her stomach and cried all night. I promised to break up, but… but she was so shocked… That night, she had a terrible stomachache… I took her to the hospital but it was too late… I’m sorry… I was wrong… Elena…”
The sound of crying echoed throughout the yard. Mrs. Helen trembled, her voice breaking in the rain:
“Oh my god… my child… Why are you suffering like this… My daughter-in-law… I’m sorry for not being able to protect you…”
Louis leaned his head on his wife’s coffin, his hands gripping the wooden edge tightly. He choked, his voice faltering:
“Louis… I’m sorry… I know I was wrong… You can be angry with me, you can hate me… But please… forgive me… Let me take you to your final resting place…”
Suddenly, the coffin shook slightly. The shaman nodded: “She has let go.”
The eight young men put their hands down again. This time, they lifted it gently, and the coffin was lifted easily. The mournful sound of the trumpet sounded, sending off a woman with an unfortunate fate. Everyone bowed their heads silently to make way.
Louis knelt on the cold ground, tears mixed with the rain. In his heart, each apology echoed painfully. He knew that for the rest of his life, no matter how much he cried, how much he apologized… he could not correct his mistakes.
And for the rest of his life, in his restless dreams, the image of Elena shedding tears would haunt him, as if reminding him: there are wounds that, no matter how much he apologized… could not heal.
