After a night of rain, the autumn leaves were gone.
The funeral ended quietly, leaving behind fatigue and concern for one mother.
The rain that started last night stripped most of the autumn leaves away.
At last, water reached the dry ground.
My younger brother’s funeral came to an end without major trouble.
“Without major trouble,” that is—except for one moment.
After the service, my mother, as the chief mourner, was scheduled to give a five-minute speech.
She spoke for ten, then fifteen.
The funeral staff grew visibly anxious, and we eventually asked her to shorten what was becoming a full life story to about a quarter of its length.
My mother, siblings, uncles, cousins, and nieces gathered to see my brother off.
At the meal afterward, we exchanged brief updates on our lives, almost as if it were a reunion.
Even we were exhausted by the end of the day.
I cannot help but worry about my mother, who must be far more tired than any of us.
