When the mother-in-law pleaded for the coffin to be opened, eight men were unable to raise it, and the daughter-in-law passed away during childbirth.
Together with the soft patter of rain on the ancient corrugated metal roof, the melancholy sound of trumpets reverberated throughout the streets.
A gold-painted coffin sat on two wooden seats in the center of the courtyard.
All around, distraught family members gathered, heads down, and wept for Isela, the lovely young woman who had died of an early birth.
She was only twenty-five.
She had been lovely, modest, and polite since the day she married Luis, treating Don Rogelio and Doña Simona as though they were her own parents.
“Any family with a daughter-in-law like Isela is truly blessed,” Doña Simona used to say proudly.
But bad luck struck just a year after the wedding.
That night, Isela sobbed hysterically while clutching her stomach in excruciating discomfort. It was already too late when she was eventually brought to the hospital.
The infant never made its first sound.
And Isela… died forever.
The whole family was inconsolable.
Doña Simona screamed in pain as she fainted multiple times.
Sitting quietly, Don Rogelio’s eyes were vacant as he gazed at the picture of Isela on the coffin: her eyes were bright with joy.
Eight robust young men stood ready to hoist the coffin to the hearse when it was time to carry it.
Strangely enough, though, the casket didn’t move an inch in spite of everything they attempted.
Their muscles shook, veins widened, and their faces flushed. However, the casket appeared to be adhered to the ground.
“She must still be grieving,” murmured an elderly man in the crowd. She isn’t prepared to go.
The priest whispered, “Open the coffin,” in a quiet voice. She has something more to say.
With hesitation, they unhooked the latch.
Everyone froze when the lid was opened.
There were still two lines of tears on Isela’s face. Although her eyes were gently closed, it was clear from her wet lashes that she had shed tears.
Holding her daughter-in-law’s icy hand, Doña Simona collapsed to her knees next to the coffin:
“Isela… My darling little… Quit weeping. Tell me if you have anything else to say, please.
The assembly plunged into a thick stillness.
Then came the echo of a choked sob.
Everyone looked at Luis.
He was sobbing furiously while on his knees with his face buried in his hands.
The visitors didn’t move. With her voice breaking, Doña Simona turned to face him and said, “Luis, what’s going on? Did she talk to you?
He raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was streaming with tears. He spoke in a broken, raspy voice, saying
There was a sob: Luis knelt down and murmured:
I’m to blame. I caused her pain.
He said that Isela had learned of another woman before that evening. She only sobbed as she touched her stomach; she hadn’t yelled.
She was already broken, even though he had vowed to stop it. That evening, she passed out. and it was too late.
Please pardon me. I implore you to…
The crowd broke down in tears. Simona muttered:
— Why did you have to endure such hardship?
Luis leaned over the casket, sobbing and trembling:
Hate me if you have to. But allow me to go with you one final time.
The casket started to shake a little. The priest said:
– She released him.
The coffin appeared lighter as the pallbearers returned. As the procession dispersed, the trumpets sounded once more.
Luis was still kneeling in the rain, gripped by an unforgiving regret. He would see Isela’s face and her sorrowful eyes in his dreams till the remainder of his life, serving as a constant reminder that not all wounds can be healed by mere “forgiveness.”
