The book of unspoken words

Through the glass

I saw him through a window
The air around me was stuffy and damp and reeked of something that smelled sour and rotten

The man who took us to the back room, knocks on a window that i cant see through because of the curtain that is drawn

In response to his knock whoever is on the side of the window opens the curtain

It takes me a while to process what I'm seeing

Its him, He's there, laying there

I search for familiarity without even knowing, not the kind that you'd imagine where you dont remember and you need somethong to help you remember, instead it's the kind where you try to convince yourself that what youre seeing is not real

It cant be real, is what i try and convince myself: His face looks sunken and hollow, his skin dark, pipes sticking out of his nose and mouth

My mom starts to cry, a mix between a shriek and a whimper, like she wants to scream but sje doesnt remember to

I feel my chest grow heavy but I need to stay strong for her and me, because i know if they start talking to her she won't be able to speak because of the sobs reverbating through her

I feel my heart fall
The man asks us to confirm that it is my father

She nods
I look at the floor wishing the ground would swallow me up right there

This is the day my mom and I had to identify my dad's body at the morgue