A gasp escaped from my mother’s mouth as she looked down at the incoming text message on her phone. I stood near her in the kitchen, and I watched her body slump down onto a cushioned stool. She put her hand to her mouth, and her eyes became glassy and moist. Nervous thoughts flooded into my head. What could be wrong? It seemed like this was big, since my mother didn’t often cry. Her eyes met mine.

“That was a text from Rachel,” my mother said quietly. “Frank died.”

I let this news sink in. We all knew this would happen eventually, but it still hit me like a ton of bricks. I still had had a small hope inside of me that there would be a miracle and Frank would overcome his lung cancer. Now, that hope was crushed. He was my brother in law, and it was devastating that he was gone at only thirty-six years old. We stood in the kitchen in silence, and in my mind I sent my prayers to him, wherever he may have been.

A few days later, my family and I drove to Staten Island for the funeral, stopping at my half-sister Rachel’s house along the way. I couldn’t imagine how she must have been feeling after a year of caring for her husband Frank, grieving with him, and now having to confront his death. When she came outside to meet us, I embraced her. She seemed stiff as she tentatively hugged me back, but I didn’t blame her. She was probably numb.

As we drove away, I noted that sunglasses covered Rachel’s eyes, although it wasn’t sunny out. Her face was expressionless, and she sat with her hands folded. She wore a strapless black-laced dress, covered with threaded swirls, which looked quite pretty on her. Even so, her mood put me on edge. How she could be so eerily calm on such a life-changing day?

My parents tried to keep a conversation going, but their efforts gradually diminished until we were all riding in silence. At last, we arrived at the funeral home, and we made our way inside. I felt strange as we approached the room, and I didn’t know what to expect.

The doors opened, and the first thing I saw was the coffin. There, strides ahead of me, lay the body of my brother-in-law. How could this have happened? How could he be fine one year, and gone in the next? Already I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I breathed in deeply and tried to remain composed. Flowers and photos surrounded the coffin in an array of colors, and I was relieved to see that it was closed. If it were open, I probably wouldn’t have been able to control my tears. The room seemed small, but in a cozy way. There was even a brick fireplace in the corner, which gave the room a welcoming feel.

My aunt Denise and Sue were waiting near the coffin, gazing at pictures of Frank, and they came over and hugged us all.

My aunt Denise asked me quietly, “How are you doing, honey?”

“Good,” I replied automatically, but I knew it wasn’t true. This was too much to handle. If I was feeling this crestfallen now, I dreaded how I would be feeling later on.

Gradually, the room filled with Frank and Rachel’s other relatives and acquaintances, who were all dressed in black. I watched them enter the room, walk cautiously up to Rachel, hug her, and give her their condolences. Before long, there was a line stretching around the room to hug her, and another line leading to Frank’s parents. Besides the whispers and the sound of sniffling, the room was deathly silent. My throat closed up tightly, and it felt as if a fist was squeezing my heart. A steady flow of tears glided down my face. Through my blurred vision, everyone looked like a vast sea of darkness and misery.

Once I wiped my face with a scratchy tissue, my eyes landed on my dad. I hadn’t really noticed him throughout this whole ordeal, and realized how tough this had been on him. Frank was his daughter’s husband, and they were good friends. He had driven him to doctors all over New York for treatment over the past six months and now, looking at the coffin, my dad broke down. He let out a quiet whimper, and a single teardrop trickled down his cheek. He put his hand to his mouth, and strode out of the room. I had never seen my dad cry before. The sight of it caused me to begin sobbing harder than ever.

After a long while of mourning, something changed in the room. Slowly, people began to speak louder until the whole room was filled with noisy chatter. They seemed to be discussing their current lives and current events. I realized that some of these people hadn’t seen each other in many years. My parents, recovering from their sadness, were actually laughing and reminiscing old stories with people whom I guessed were distant cousins or relatives. I was glad for this little session of soft happiness, and I think everyone else felt the same. The room’s thick fog of sorrow had blown away, leaving a light and almost cheery mood.

Suddenly, the priest strode into the room. He was tall, and wore a red and white robe that reached his white shoes. Tucked under his arm was a small copy of the Bible. Everyone spread out and made a path for him to the front of the room. We all receded back to our seats and waited for him to begin speaking.

Once everyone was quiet, he welcomed us and expressed his sympathy to Rachel and Frank’s parents. He said some prayers that everyone repeated after him, and he quoted a section from the Bible. At some points, he even cracked jokes and made everyone laugh. His main message was that deaths such as these make no sense, when a young person with so much creativity and talent is cursed with a horrible illness. This surprised me, because normally a priest states that it was “his time to go” or that “God wanted him in Heaven.” However, I appreciated that he didn’t say these things, and just stated the unfortunate truth. He ended the sermon with the hopes that Frank found the light and went peacefully to the other side.

At that moment, I realized how fragile life is and how I should appreciate the life I was given. Death is a mysterious concept, and it is very difficult to grasp what happens to you after you die. They say in the end, a light appears and envelops you, sweeping you away to your destiny. I hoped that Frank found his light, and followed it to his final destination. Until it is my time to go into the light, I need to live my life to the fullest, and always be prepared to expect the unexpected.