I arrived more towards the end.
the people present had their conversations
whispering with a low voice in the echoing church
why were they not speaking, if they needed to ?
or just being quiet altogether, out of respect ?
people arrived and went.
they kept whispering
like naughty school children
afraid to be punished by the teacher
or maybe even punished by God
the God who man had created long time ago
for many reasons or no reason at all.
no one dared to speak out loud in the church that day
even not in humble honesty and from the depth of their hearts
or about any event during the life of Gerald.
the echo of the church would have carried each word
without a doubt!
his son in the first row looked uncomfortable
and all of a sudden had inherited his fathers facial expression.
it was a long wait.
people arrived and went.
that’s how it always had been done.
I realized I was the only blow-in present in this close knit community
paying my last respects to a friendly and always cheerful neighbour.
I felt like playing the harmonica that I happened to have in my pocket.
A kind of last offering to Gerald.
I didn’t. I didn’t want to cause any upset,
didn’t want to break the rules that I was not sure about for the sake of the son.
it was my silent farewell to my neighbour.