Kiss them when they are alive

     I remember my first wake. It was a parent of a friend of a friend of my mother, who ever it was, i had no connection with, it allowed me to merely observe. The first one was the most impressive one, that's why i remember it so well. We went there in the dead of night, it was winter, cold and dark. In a square there was an old church, tall and grey, we had to go around it, and in to the small paved garden. There was a huge dark wooden door, one is open, the other is closed and it's so dark inside. We go in and it's a pre-chamber small, can't imagine it having more then four square meters, full of people that you can't really see. I was looking up at them looking down on me. Behind all of them there was a light, it was a dimmed lighted room, but it seemed infinitely brighter then where we had come from. It was such a tall room that the light could not touch the ceiling, it seemed never ending. The walls were covered with tiles, blue tiles filled with drawings of other pious people, it created the feeling that the room was not squared it was never ending, a wormhole. The sound. There was a sound, a chant, a never ending music that went on and on for all the time i was there. A group of old women from the north were praying, they had to pray for the soul of the departed, and they sang their prays. They would be locked in with the corps and they would sing all trough the night. I remember a coffin with a white cloak, nothing else. 

     Dead people never look like living people, never saw a dead person, that even reminded me of the living version. They are always so yellow, and swollen. I think they put something in their mouths. Some people kiss them, they are saying goodbye to something, there is nothing there anymore. Kiss them when they are alive, that will make a difference not when they are dead. 

     Here there is nothing like that, it's a modern cold room, it even has a coffee machine, it lacks theatricality, but not sadness. He is dead, and now she will wake up for the first time since she doesn't even remember when, all alone, a widow. Now there is no one that will look at her and remember how gorgeous she used to be, no one to love the way she is now because of what she used to be, no one to look after her the way only a lover can. She is so small, so delicate, she looks so fragile, but she is stronger then this, i hope. I like her, always did, she was always so nice to me, and she still is, she had a bit of time to talk with me and spare some kind words to me, like i'm the one who needs them. Don't really know what to say to her. I will tell her good news, that will make her smile, she looks pretty when she smiles. I remember some of this faces from when i was younger, they don't know who i am, my mother strayed away, i just need to avoid eye contact with anyone and i will be unidentifiable.

     We start burring our grandparents, then our parents and then our own. I can't imagine a time where my friends are becoming widows and widowers, we are still searching for the first "the one" to marry, no one is getting married now, not yet anyway. We are young, and i feel so old, i feel that i should be somewhere that i'm not. Maybe age sneaked up on our parents and they are also surprised that their friends are dying. Wakes are also a social gathering, an opportunity so see old friend that life pushed away. Please let's keep in touch. I don't want to go to a funeral and be glad to see my long lost friends, i want to go with all of you.

     No one is crying now. there are so many flowers, i only smell flowers and old lady perfume. His parents are here and they will bury their son.