My mum’s friend whom I mentioned here passed on last week. Looking at her photos it was tough to imagine that this lady who’d always been so good to me wasn’t with us anymore. My friend took it in her stride I hope, since she’d probably been mentally prepared for it over the past month with her mum in the hospital but I know that I’d be torn up inside if it had been my mum, so I know it can’t have been easy for her.
The family’s not Muslim, so I went to the wake at her house. It wasn’t quite open casket, but the top part of the casket was transparent so you could see the face of the departed. I didn’t cry, but it was tough seeing her in the make up they put on the dead when a few steps away I could see photographs of her alive and well, the way I remembered her. My friend hasn’t had the best of times this past year, and the last conversation I had with her mum was about how moody she (my friend) had been and how difficult it was to talk to her sometimes.
I suppose the best thing to gain from this is an understanding that death is a certainty and a reminder to live our lives the best we can.
I miss you Aunty Wendy. May God have mercy on your soul.