Michael Haertel, Reporter
The doors opened, revealing a place mysterious to the boy. After coming out of a black car, he was led over to a place that wasn’t crowded except for a clearing ahead of him. In the front of the crowd of people wearing black, there was a slate of stone, and words that were unfamiliar to him before they were spoken. At five years old, Michael Haertel witnessed his first funeral.
He can only remember what the man in front was saying, even though he couldn’t understand the meaning of his words at the time. He only knew that the words were important enough to be said by a man in a fancy suit.
He never knew which relative was buried that day, but he will never forget the sadness in everyone’s eyes. It felt weird then, seeing all of these adults crying in front of a slab of stone that had no emotions. Now he feels guilty for thinking that way.
That boy remembers asking his mom,“Why are these people crying?” She only told him to keep silent, and he never knew why until he realized later that one of his relatives died. When the crowd dispersed, he got a good look at the slab of stone. On the stone, there was a name he couldn’t understand and remember, and still can’t remember to this day.
Even when all of the people left in their cars, the boy was the only one left, still standing in front of the stone. He felt the tears before they fell from his eyes. Was he crying over being left, or was he crying over his relative, now sleeping under the earth? He never will understand his own emotions from that day.
But that boy will remember the loss everyone felt when the body was swallowed up by the earth.
