“Garth knows his way with words, too.”

I abruptly withdraw from myself, Hearth’s voice snapped me out of my contemplation. Guests were giving soft applause and the priests were exchanging embraces with Garth. I recall that I sat on the pew where my siblings were, where my sister was between me and Barth.

I was deep in my own thoughts, I don’t understand what she meant by that, “Yes, you’re right.”

She smiles at me, “Promise me to always remember that whenever you’re in a pickle, Arys.”

I must’ve missed Garth’s eulogy, “I will.”

She looks convinced, “Good.”

The choir begins singing another song once more. As we wait for the song to be finished, I find ourselves to be outside already. Have I disassociated during the whole eulogy and last rites? That was supposed to be an hour-long process.

“What’s wrong?” Hearth puts her hand on my back.

“Nothing,” I replied, not wanting to worry her.

She puts her arm around me, “Don’t worry, brother. We will take care of each other.”

I am still lost, this is my first, how come I don’t remember what happened earlier, “What?”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“I won’t be.”

Two men with shovels scoop up the soil and begin to fill the pit that Garth made earlier. They cover the final resting place of our parents. I watch the men do their work; I notice that Garth is near them. As the crowd disperses, Barth continues to socialize and say farewell to our other prominent guests. I hear a quiet whimper, more of a wince, I realize it is Hearth who is beside me, standing a few feet away from the burial.

“Sis,” I put my arm around her, “You don’t have to worry.”

She doesn’t respond but proceeds to cry silently, I can feel her avoidance of bawling. I would’ve blamed her refined manners and ladylike training but I guess her refrained mourning is more than moderation, it is simply her determination to present herself as a dependable big sister.

 “Don’t worry, sister. We will take care of each other.”

In my effort to console her, I repeat the words that she just said to me. But I believe it just made her more emotional.

I look around to seek assistance from my brothers. Barth is still talking to a couple of old men; Garth is now helping with the shoveling. I chuckle at the fact that my brothers are simply doing what they know. It takes a few moments before Hearth stops from her cries, although she is still in tears.

Have I forgotten to mourn?

I asked myself the question. I became worried that I might be a little too suspicious. For an eight-year-old who just became an orphan, I didn’t show a lot of proper emotions with my adoptive parents’ passing. But I justify my lack of emotion the same as how my two brothers aren’t crying right now.

It must’ve sounded heartless of me. But in reality, I only knew Imelda and Howie for eight years. A normal child would yearn for their parents’ time but I was conscious and aware during my time with them. I carry their love as much as I carry the memory of my past life. I will carry these memories as long as I live. Though I must admit, I will miss them and I wish we spent more time together knowing each other.

“It’s okay to cry, Arys.” She looks at me while wiping her tears.

She must’ve asked because she’s worried an eight-year-old is not showing emotions properly, “I know.”

She pauses, “I didn’t mean to impose. I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, Sis. I know...”

She continues to wipe her tears, I need to engage and console her, “What’s wrong?”

“Well,” she sniffles, “I want to make sure everyone mourns properly.”

“I can mourn without tears, Sis,” I said while handing her my napkin from my pocket.

She accepts my napkin and uses it to blow her nose, I guess I won’t be needing it back. “I know.” She said.

“Besides,” I try to justify myself more, “Garth and Barth are too busy to cry,”

“You’re right.” She relaxes herself.

“I’m also a big boy now.” I tried to jest but she didn’t budge.

Instead, she looks at me with a smile, “But you are also mistaken.” She points at Garth, “Garth may be busy with shoveling but that doesn’t mean he isn’t mourning. The same goes for Barth, who may distance himself from us and rather choose to mingle with the guests.”

“I don’t think mingle is still the right word, Sis.”

“The point is. My point. Your big brothers mourn in their own way. They don’t show it to us but I’m sure they want to be hugged right now.”

Garth, Barth, and hugs are not words that shouldn’t be combined, “I doubt…”

“You doubt,” she points at Garth and Barth, “But look, they are doing it.”

I raise a brow, “Doing what?”

“They are distracting themselves.”

“From what?”

She put her hand on top of my head, “From crying?” she said as if she expected me to know it, “From this…?”

Her tone implies that she is expecting me to say something, “From…?” she continues.

I paused for a second but then the answer came to me, “Lost?”

“Yes.”

I stop once more and contemplate. Have I even mourned myself from what happened to me in the real world, when did this unloving nature of mine come to be, was it always here with me even in my past life or did I stop caring when I got here? I wonder if my family is thinking of me.

Hearth silently focuses her eyes on me. She is performing a role in an eight-year-old’s life who just lost their parents. I can’t blame her that I’m actually a man stuck in a child’s body. But, should that be an excuse for not being…

“Sad,” I uttered rather unexpectedly.

Hearth smiles, she pats me on the head, “Yes.”

Technically, I’ve been alive for at least twenty or more years. In the past life, I was a big hater. I hated my family, my life, and my father. The real world was harsh but it can’t be the reason why I’m heartless in this world. After all, I am living a comfortable life because of my adoptive parents.

But, should it be the only reason to be sad? I wonder if have I been so thankful for them. Now, that I mentioned it, have I ever shown gratitude even before this life?

I wonder how they are doing now.

“Arys,” she kneels down to my level, “Yes.”

I have been away from the life I left for eight long years now. I am fully aware of what I’ve lost here and there, but is it too late for me to cry for both worlds? My real father, whose name I still refuse to omit out of shame, must be out there looking for me. I have to admit, I wish I didn’t know that fact. As much as I hated him in the past, I wish I could’ve said goodbye.

Eight years of wishful thinking that maybe one day, I’ll wake up and return back to the real world. But, at this rate, I think I will be here forever. Maybe, it is time for me to accept that I will be here for a long time. If I am going to stay then I must be more connected with my new life that I’ve been denying all these years ago.

Eight years has been so long. It is time to move on and start anew. I refuse to forget it all though. I refuse to repeat everything that I once was. Now, let me unblock this sadness and let it flow through me.

I hope my parents are doing fine in the real world. Father, I will always remember you. But today I accept that I lost you, too. Today I shall mourn two fathers.

I look at Hearth, I just want to look at her reassuring gaze. Imelda, you’ve raised a fine woman. I am lucky to have a sister like her even if we are not actually related by blood.

Hearth wraps her arms around me, lovingly sharing a comforting warmth with me.

The day is ending. The sun is saying farewell. As well as our parents. The wind blows towards the direction of my face, butterflies hover low on my legs. The guests have left, except for some people who still have business with us. I’m sure everyone’s inside the manor now.

But, soon. I see Barth approaching. I guess he is done mingling. Garth soon approaches, too. Towards me they walk and towards me they smile, quite assuring. Then I felt a tear escaped my eyes, slowly dripping down my cheek.

They came to hold both of us, we embraced warmly, and I reciprocated.