JUST BEST FRIENDS

CHAPTER 43: RIP.

#JUST_BEST_FRIENDS FINAL CHAPTER

Author: Samuel Frederick

CHAPTER 43: RIP.

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Three days later. Friday. 9:00 AM.

Ebony Millennium Cemetery, Lagos, Nigeria.

Undoubtedly, today was a sad day for Yomi's loved ones. It was his funeral, and sorrow filled the air of the venue like a thunderstorm. His parents, friends, neighbours and colleagues were all present at the ceremony to honour him, and it wasn't easy for any of them to be here in this cemetery, especially with the sight of Yomi's corpse which laid in a grand casket on a small podium that had a lot of his portraits all over it.

Unlike many African funerals, this occasion was a small and simple one hosted by Yomi's family. He was so close to his parents when he was alive to the point that he felt comfortable talking to them about anything and everything, including spirituality and death, so that was how his funeral plans came about. This was exactly what he wanted. This was exactly what he wished for, as he'd revealed on one of their many discussions.

He loathed big funerals. To him, extravagant funerals were just pointless. He saw them as a charade for people who didn't really care about the main event but the food and the thrills involved, with the exception of the very few who actually and genuinely mourned the deceased, of course.

However, moving on, all dressed in black and sitting on plastic chairs before a small podium was the mourning audience, listening to the pastor's sermon. He preached about the afterlife and why it was important to live a positive life on Earth, a life of fulfillment, a life that pleases God against all odds, and then he rounded off with a short prayer for Yomi's soul, before leaving the stage for anyone who wanted to offer their tribute to Yomi.

First, Yomi's mother went forward, talked, cried her eyes out and left the stage, and then two other people took turns to share their memories too. Finally, Idara stepped out to render her own speech.

Standing on this altar was a lot harder than she thought, not just because she always had stage fright, but because she'd never seen so many sad faces nor witnessed such quietness before in her entire life. She now understood what the phrase ‘as silent as a graveyard’ meant, as she observed the tranquillity of the atmosphere; the way the trees and the lush green, beautiful flowers danced to the rhythm of the travelling wind, the calm and soothing voices of the singing birds, the serene flow of the nearby river, and the pitch-perfect cooperation of the humid weather. She also noted the interlocking paving stones of the paths and the high fences, and the orderliness of the various gravestones, which scared her to death, knowing that Yomi's name would soon be among them.

Left to Idara, she could go on and on surveying the environment — at least to distract her mind from the sad reality for a while — but people were already burning holes in her chest with their terrifying stares, so she grabbed the microphone and exclaimed “Ahem!” into it.

“First off, good morning, everyone.” Her hands trembled as she looked at them, recognizing so many faces in their midst. “It's been three days since my dear best friend passed away, but it still feels like a dream to me, like a horrible nightmare.”

Her gaze fell on Tayo, who stood under a distant oak tree, listening keenly. He supported her with a nod, urging her to go on.

And she did.

“Yomi and I were best of friends since our childhood, and even our parents can testify to that.” Idara glanced at her parents who sat together with Matthew and Mr. Kalu, before looking at Yomi's grieving parents, feeling terribly sorry for them. “If I can feel this way about Yomi's death, God only knows how his biological parents who bred him to adulthood are feeling right now. It must be so terrible to witness your own child's funeral, especially in their fruitful years.”