Who's the Person Inside the Coffin?

The cold, dark midnight came and there I was, laying my head on the softest pillow I had. I did not move nor turn to find a cool place of the bed—I was sleeping soundly. I was dreaming—dreaming of me, walking on a lazy afternoon across the fresh, green grass, tickling my feet with its wetness. There I realized that I was heading to a cemetery. My vision was starting to be blurry and dim. All I saw was, I was attending a burial mass. There were only few people and the coffin was at the center. Instead of hearing loud cries and screams of regrets and sadness, there was silence. But the silence was different. It was filled with melancholia and agony.

I did not know who were the people around me and the person inside the coffin. Maybe I just didn’t recoginze them, for my vision was unclear. A tear fell from my right eye and more tears came. I did not cry for the reason that death took someone from the mortal world but for the reason that my heart felt the sadness of the scenery that I was seeing.

I woke up, catching my breath. As if I were running a distance of a hundred miles.

Few weeks came and I was sleeping again. Unfortunately, I woke up hearing my mother crying. She was holding my hand while kneeling  and I felt the warmth of her tears on my hands. She told me the very last thing I want to hear.

My Auntie died because of Breast cancer, stage 4. She was keeping it to herself and endured the pain that she was suffering. She did not dare to tell anyone about her illness because she did not want to bother any of us. She was my favorite Tita and I, too was her favorite.

And my dream came true.