The wake was quiet, filled with soft candlelight and the gentle fragrance of lilies. My little sister Lily stood beside our father’s coffin, holding the edge as if keeping him close for just a little longer. She didn’t cry or speak—she simply stared, her innocent eyes full of hope and confusion. Adults whispered that she was too young to feel the weight of goodbye, but I knew Lily always felt things deeply. Her silence wasn’t emptiness—it was love trying to understand loss.
When evening came and guests began leaving with soft condolences, Lily still didn’t move. Two relatives gently lifted her away so the room could be closed for the night. She didn’t fight, but her trembling lips showed a thousand emotions she couldn’t yet name.
