Louis pressed his forehead against the wooden edge of the coffin, clutching it tightly as if trying to hold onto what he had already lost.
“Elena… I’m sorry. You have every right to hate me. But please… if there’s any part of you that can forgive me… let me carry you to your resting place.”
The coffin shifted — just slightly, but enough for everyone to see.
The shaman nodded silently. “She’s at peace.”
The young men tried once more. This time, the coffin lifted smoothly, effortlessly. The sound of the trumpet swelled again, guiding Elena on her final journey. Mourners stepped aside, their heads bowed in reverence, their hearts heavy with what had been lost.
The Weight of a Lifetime
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