Sunday Morning 1998

It was Sunday morning on September. Everybody was busy with their works as well as my mother. She did not even talk to me, she was busy talking to people in phone. It was in my own house but I did not know what they were doing. They were all busy in decorating my house. My grandmother looked so depressed but she also did the same thing, busy with the work, tidying up a room, preparing some stuff, and so on. I was 8 years old at that time and my brother was 6 years old. We were just together all the time, questioning adults’ actions. Actually, I did not pay any attention in adults’ business. I was a child and sometimes children never understood adults’ business and their ways of thinking. Until one time, I heard they mentioned my father’s name. They said that he had gone away. So what? My father went away often, why did they make it into a trouble? I just ignored them and kept playing with my beloved brother. I thought that they would stop their useless actions. A moment later, an ambulance came and I have just realized that the funeral would be held.