Tita Juls and Easter 2018

Her Easter week was quite different this year.

_{A monument at the cemetery}

It started out in a grim manner, when her father received news that his brother suffered a heart attack and did not survive. In his shock he thought that it was fake news and did not believe it until they went to visit.

Going to funerals could incite many things, Tita Juls observed the Parental Unit.

It incited melancholy in her father's case, where he looked into the coffin of his younger brother's face and shook his head sadly. Later, he would begin reminiscing about the time when they were both boys, and being the elder ones of out 11 siblings, were the ones who kept their large family together and served as role models for the younger ones.

As for her mother, it incited apprehension, for meeting and seeing her husband's relations, especially his sisters, was never one she looked forward to. She whispered furiously into Tita Juls' ears about how one of them had written her an angry letter many decades ago. Her father had taken his wife's side, and of course, this still left bitter feelings with the said sister.

(Tita Juls also found that this very letter was still kept by her mother, 'It may come in handy one day, you never know'. She could only stare at the woman in amazement.)

For Tita Juls, however, it incited feelings of vulnerability and mortality. And for some reason, even though the story was mainly about aliens, she remembered a line from a novel:

"And we don't like to remember how frail we are-how delicate the balances are inside our own bodies, how short our stay on Earth, and how easily it is ended."

Sphere, by Michael Crichton

So, there you are, my dear, said a wheezy, tiny voice. The aunt who had wrote this incriminating letter many years past had crept up and plopped down on the bench where Tita Juls was quietly sitting, thereby effectively destroying her gloomy, ponderous thoughts about mortality.

My dear, this is sad indeed. Ah, but life is as it is... it is a good thing my brother's family is all here, his children, and his grandchildren..., She trailed away, peering curiously through her cat-eye glasses.

Leave it to her relatives to be inappropriate at all times, and although Tita Juls tried to employ a vaccous expression, she knew what was coming next, any moment now -

Do you have a boyfriend, dear? Tell us right now and bring him around and we can meet him! Oh you know us, your dear old aunts, the only thing we wish for -

Oh joy, Tita Juls groaned inwardly. This is a funeral, for goodness sake, God only knows why there are rude relatives in the world that you are made to deal with.

With utmost forced propriety, Tita Juls gave in what she hoped was a decent, small gasp of awe and pointed at her aunt's finger, 'Oh what a beautiful ring, Auntie! Is it real?' she exclaimed.

Thankfully, that was enough to move her aunt's goals to other pressing matters - herself. Only two more hours of this and she can forget the invitation if Tita Juls does get married.

At the burial, Tita Juls watched the solemn procession walk through small paths between graves, big and small stone and cement slabs, some old, and some were surprisingly knew, which added to the uneasiness she felt whenever in cemeteries. A few stray cats approached cautiously and stood comfortably around the nearby graves.

_{"The Caxton"}

She stood in the back, and when the sexton invited the family for the final viewing of the coffin, she felt her eyes water involuntarily. It was true, she wasn't that close to her father's side of the family, but as she saw her cousins and his wife caress her husband's face, she could not stop her tears from falling.

Moments later, as the coffin was being lowered into the ground, a big sudden gust of wind came and violently and blew away the tent that was set up over her uncle's grave. It sent the stray cats running to safety, but for Tita Juls it was quite symbolic of her Uncle being laid to rest, and of his family letting him go.

Listening to the wind for several minutes, Tita Juls cleared her throat, and composed herself before approaching the grave for her final respects.

Images are by @titajuls and edited using Prisma, Photofy, Photogrid