Memorial service

Big boys don't cry. Strong men don't cry. Never. Not even if they are being slapped around by people far bigger than them. Not even if they get picked on for the sake of picking on. Not even if they want to. They are resolute beings with controlled emotional banks. Stoic lords of the earth.
They have resolved to face everything with the virulent pangs of anger or if Gandhians, a smile.

Somehow some of the human race is not too famed for its resolution. One wouldn't use the word fickle. Some of them are just willing to express themselves with a little less thought for the perceptions of stability.

Or maybe it's just death has a way of getting you to do things you don't want to. Well, death is, politely putting it, unfair in all its ingloriousness.

The very thought of it was disfiguring.

He hated people crying.

Not because he thought them to be weak. It was just people had no right to be made so vulnerable. It pained him. The anguish of it was numbing. Sometimes the one above seemed like this great comedian who was juggling so many jokes at the same time, some undeservedly fell out. Not that anybody deserved to die. Even for wrongs there are punishments much worse than death.

He had seen those who were catapulted into this abyss of emotion. People torn with grief. They didn't even have to know the dead that well. It was just the misfortunes seemed too dark to be fate. He had been there himself. Just to see what it was like. Now he thought it was an inevitable reality he had been trying to avoid for ages.

Maybe it was alright to cry once in a while. Somehow he remembered his father telling him it was alright to when one really cared for something or for someone lost. It was strange. His outer face was falling apart. He was discovering aspects of himself that he hardly would have imagined existed.

It seemed sad. He seems lost.

Yet the truth would arise that though our souls we could captain and plague, we were more often than not, not the true masters of our fate.

Man is that essential psycho-somatic pact, they say. He will break at times. The largess of the juggling would lie in whether it would prefer it to be down or free.