Rest in peace, sir

My eyelids were betrayed by the weight of sleep.  Swaying left to right, my blindness was no match for unnatural reactions that kept me in a straight line of traffic.
And then I arrived...

The people, dressed in black, had a gloomy feel to them.  Silent, but courteous, and inviting with timid vision.  So I entered the room.
My sense of smell caught a glimpse of something strange.  The dimmed lights set the mood for what was to be seen...

The open casket was my first encounter with reality.  It would be me in there someday, and yet, I could not stare directly with the same contemplation of tears that those around me seemed to possess.
Vertigo took the best of my stance, and I felt the weight of my aches be lifted by the presence of strangeness.  Spiritual awareness.
All I could see were the cold hands of the man that used to breathe, and walk, and talk.

Sitting down at the back of the room, I heard the prayers carry what was left of him toward the gates of something like Heaven.  And I could not connect to the serenade.  And it saddened me that I felt my discomforts be emphasized by my lack of curiousity to simply take a look at the tiny image that was now encased in a wooden coffin.

And I saw the falls under the lids of her eyes.  And the shakiness of his voice.  And the strong embrace of strangers that joined forces to deflect their positive attitude amongst the walls of the small room.

"Time to go" announced the lady in black.

My farewells caressed my best wishes to those who suffered directly.
My eyes carried my steps toward the open casket for one final attempt.

The colourless fingertips were at peace.  His skin, inanimate, was no more an empty shell than the coffin that framed it.  Stillness took over the scenery and my eyes paced slowly toward his face.  And there it was:  A slight smile escaping the corner of his mouth.  He seemed more asleep than unavailable.  "I wonder what he is dreaming about?"  I pondered.

And with that, my sight felt a jolt of serene madness that was only inhabited by the words now scribbled.

Rest in peace, Mr. Carrillo; Rest In Peace.