The events after that night are pretty fuzzy in my mind. Mom, dad and I were exhausted physically, emotionally and mentally that day. But the events that had taken place kept us all awake through out the night.
Most of the aftermath is but a blur in my head. But I still feel the lingering traces of the emotions I'd felt through it all. Emotions are hard to forget and the one of sadness is not a stranger to me in the present anymore.
I remember the funeral - I'd distanced myself from the coffin, standing a few feet behind my parents who were solemn and quiet. My dad hadn't cried but the worst sorrow is one of silence.
My mom, however, mourned deeply for the loss of her father. She was quiet, and her hands were folded in front of her as her pained eyes absorbed the scene. How much she wished things could be different...how much we all did.
They lowered him onto the ground they'd dug up, and everyone watched as they scattered the soil, breaking it out to cover the creamy white covering below which he lay.
This time, there were no tears involved but a cold numbness as I bade my grandpa farewell. This would be the last time I'd be this close to him. Soon, mom, dad and I would be leaving back to Cairo. And life would go on...
How different would it be?