A YOUNG WOMAN WAS TO BE BURIED NEXT TO HER MOTHER’S SKELETON…

“You can bring your mother’s skeleton,” Victor said, his voice breaking with grief.

The silence that followed was profound.

Everyone present looked at each other, astonished, unable to believe what they had just heard.

The atmosphere of the wake, already heavy, became even denser, as if something invisible had descended upon the place and suffocated the air.

Victor, the father of the deceased young woman, walked slowly towards the coffin.

With trembling hands, he gently touched his daughter’s pale, cold face.

Luna was barely 20 years old.

She was too young to be there, lying down forever.

Her dark hair framed a face that was once full of life, joy, and light.

Now he lay motionless, colorless, without that smile that lit up everything around him, especially his father’s heart.

“My princess,” he murmured, his voice almost lost, as he caressed her face with the back of his hand.

“Why so soon? Why you too, my God?” she whispered, raising her tear-filled eyes to the ceiling, as if pleading for an answer that would never come.

Two years earlier, he had been devastated by the death of his wife, Catalina.

Now it was as if life had ripped away what little he had left.

Catalina had died in a terrible accident, and now Luna was being taken by a cruel disease.

Victor felt like an empty man walking among ruins.

That’s when two funeral home employees entered the place.

They carried what remained of Catalina with almost ritualistic care.

His skeleton, wrapped in a snow-white sheet, was held with reverence, as if each bone still held a piece of his soul.

Upon seeing that scene, all eyes turned towards them.

It was impossible to look away.

It was disturbing, grim, and completely unexpected.

Clara, Victor’s youngest daughter, just 12 years old, took two steps forward.

His wide eyes studied the figure with unease.

Then he pointed doubtfully and asked in a whisper:

“Dad, is that Mom?”

Victor crouched down in front of the girl and pulled her towards him.

Her eyes were red, her voice trembled.

“Yes, honey, that’s your mom.”

“Now she’s going to sleep next to Luna. The two of them will be together forever.”

Clara nodded slowly.

He didn’t seem to fully understand it, but he didn’t question it either.

His gaze, however, was confused, like someone who senses that something strange, very strange, is happening.

But in the midst of grief there was no room for understanding, only for acceptance.

Dr. Valeria, who had accompanied Luna during the last years of her illness and had become almost like family, slowly approached.

He looked at the white sheet that concealed Catalina’s remains with a mixture of unease and a shiver.

“Victor,” he said doubtfully, “are you sure this is really necessary?”

Her arms bristled.

This went beyond the ordinary.

It was a scene she never imagined she would witness, not even at a funeral.

Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The pain was etched into every line of his face.

“It was her wish, Valeria,” she replied, her voice choked with emotion.

“It was my daughter’s last wish, and I promised her I would fulfill it.”

Valeria swallowed, still staring at the skeleton of the woman who, years ago, had also been her patient.

“Perhaps… perhaps it would be better to place them in adjacent graves, each with its own place to rest.”

But Victor simply shook his head firmly.

“No, doctor. Catalina and Luna were inseparable. Luna deteriorated a lot after losing her mother. The truth is that what really killed my little girl was homesickness.”

She said she could no longer bear the distance, and when she knew she was going to die, she asked to sleep next to her mother, to rest embraced by her in the same coffin.”

Valeria remained silent.

Faced with so much pain, it was impossible to argue.

There was no logic in the duel, only promises, memories, and despair.

The two funeral directors approached with the skeleton wrapped in the sheet.

It was surreal to watch.

Some of those present looked away; others could not.

It was like witnessing a scene from another world, a ritual lost in time, macabre for some, sacred for others.

Victor gazed at what had once been his wife.

For a moment no one could understand.

He saw her radiance there.

Catalina, his great love, the woman who made him dream, who built that family with him.

He saw her smile, smelled her perfume, heard her laughter, even if only for a second, inside his memory.

With trembling hands, he stretched out his arms and helped the employees place the skeleton inside the coffin.

The movement was slow, silent, as if something sacred were being performed.

When they finally placed the skeletal body next to Luna, he positioned his daughter’s arms so that it looked as if she was embracing her mother’s remains.

The silence in that room was absolute.

All that could be heard was the heavy breathing of some and the muffled sobs of others.

Victor then took two steps back.

Her face, streaked with tears, tried to force a smile, a small, crooked, sad smile.

A smile that was more of a memory than an expression of joy.

It was the reflection of someone who had seen everything they loved leave, but who still tried to believe they were doing the right thing.

Raúl, one of the funeral home directors, cleared his throat discreetly.

He had seen many things in his career, but nothing like this.

“All of us at this moment,” he began, in a firm and respectful voice.

“We must remember how special this mother and daughter were, and that now, finally, they are reunited in the same embrace, in the same eternal rest.”

His words echoed in the room like a blanket.

Some eyes filled with tears, others closed in silent prayer.

Victor remained motionless beside the coffin.

Clara, his little sister, squeezed his hand tightly.

Her eyes were fixed on that image she would never forget: Luna, her beloved sister, lying with a serene expression, embraced by what remained of her mother.

She no longer remembered her mother’s smile, nor her voice.

The wake continued in almost complete silence.

Time seemed to have stood still.

The pain was almost tangible, as if it filled every inch of the room.

Dark and cold.

The funeral speeches followed one after another, each word heavy with sadness and sorrow.

It was impossible not to be moved when looking at the open coffin, where Luna lay, embracing the skeleton of her own mother.

Friends and family tried to find words to comfort each other.

But what could be said in the face of such a tragedy?

Victor was a broken man, and Clara, so small, barely 12 years old, already knew the taste of loss well.

First her mother, now her sister.

It was too much pain for such a small heart.

Their eyes met, many still confused and uncomfortable.

Some whispered to each other, clearly shocked by the unusual decision to bury mother and daughter in the same coffin, especially with the skeleton of the deceased Catalina.

It seemed too strange, even inappropriate, but nobody dared to question it.

The family’s grief was so profound that silence was the only possible response, until Raúl, the funeral director, stepped forward.

His expression was grave, solemn.

He took a deep breath before announcing:

“We are going to begin the final farewell. Those who wish to do so, please come forward to say goodbye to Luna and also to Catalina, in some way. Then we will close the coffin. One by one.”

Those present approached, with their heads bowed.

Some murmured words of affection, others simply watched in silence with moist eyes.

Trembling hands touched Luna’s lifeless face, as if they could reach her soul one last time.

And then it was just the two of them, Victor and Clara.

The girl took a step forward.

His eyes, both childlike and mature, gazed upon the skeleton that had once been his mother.

In a firm voice, she whispered:

“Take care of Luna in the sky, Mom.”

Victor collapsed, crying, covering his face with his hands, but the tears seeped through his fingers.

“Someday I will find them, my loves,” she said, crying as she had never cried before.

Raúl and another employee from the funeral home approached gently and placed the lid on the coffin.

Luna’s image disappeared beneath the dark wood, and in that instant, the world seemed to vanish.

An oppressive silence filled the room.

Some men from the family and friends positioned themselves around, took hold of the side handles of the coffin and, together with Victor, began to carry it towards the grave.

Victor walked as if he were dragging the weight of a lifetime.

Beside him, Clara advanced with small but determined steps.

She was just a girl, but at that moment she seemed to carry the heart of a woman who had already lived too long.

Once again, that man made that journey.

But now Catalina was not the only one inside; Luna was there too, the two of them side by side in the darkness of the coffin.

And he was outside, completely powerless.

When they reached the edge of the grave, the men carefully placed the coffin on the straps that would lower it.

Clara, with a delicate gesture, took a flower from the small bouquet of white roses she was carrying and placed it on the lid.

“Goodbye, Mom.”

“Goodbye, Luna,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on the coffin.

Others also approached, placing flowers on the wood until only Victor remained.

The man took a step forward, holding a single white rose between his fingers.

It was her daughter’s favorite flower.

She bent down, about to place it, when she heard something.

“Mother.”

The whispered word cut through the air like a knife.

He remained motionless.

Her eyes opened wide.

The rose fell from her hand.

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Did anyone else hear that?” he said, taking a step back.

Visibly frightened.

Valeria approached, concerned by her expression.

“What happened, Victor?” he asked.

“I heard someone say ‘mom’,” he said, placing his hand on his chest.

“It must have been one of the children. There are many families here. Luna was very loved,” Valeria suggested, trying to calm him down.

But Victor shook his head, panting.

“No, it didn’t come from outside. The voice came from the coffin. It came from within.”

The doctor hesitated.

It didn’t make sense.

She knew the effects of grief and prolonged pain.

I knew how the mind could play tricks on you.

“You’re suffering a lot. It may have been your mind, Victor. It’s time to let Luna rest. I’m going to ask them to lower the coffin.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her.

He slowly approached the tomb.

He bent over the coffin placed there, about to be buried.

And then he heard it again:

“Mom,” the voice was muffled, but clearly recognizable.

It was the moon.

I knew it for sure.

“Stop this funeral right now!” he cried desperately.

“Stop him immediately, please! I heard my daughter’s voice!”

They all turned towards him, some scared, others confused.

Raul ran towards the man.

“Victor, I know it’s difficult, but Luna is gone. Your daughter is in a better place now. You must be strong. We have to continue with the funeral.”

“No, no, we’re not going to continue with anything. I heard her voice. She’s alive. My daughter is alive.”

He shouted, becoming increasingly agitated.

Valeria tried to calm him down one last time.

But it was too late.

He lunged at the structure and began to undo the side latches.

Raúl, seeing that he could no longer stop him, approached to help.

The doctor, although reluctant, nodded.

“We’re going to open it, but after this you’ll have to let her go,” Valeria said, completely skeptical.

They removed the coffin from the structure that would lower it into the grave.

Victor unlocked the side zipper with trembling hands.

Raúl and the other employee lifted the lid.

When the inside of the coffin was revealed again, absolute silence fell over everyone.

Victor fell to his knees, breathless.

Clara pointed to the center of the coffin, her eyes wide open and her mouth slightly open.

Everyone present, without exception, gasped.

What they had seen there made no sense.

It was something that no one could ever explain.

But to understand what was really happening at that funeral, it was necessary to go back in time, to a moment when there was no pain or tears, but only joy, laughter and love in that family.

The night was quiet.

Clara, the youngest daughter, was playing with Victor in the living room.

The two of them were sitting on the rug, concentrating on a memory game.

The girl was happy, focused on trying to beat her father.

With each pair of cards he found, he celebrated by clapping as if he had won a championship.

Suddenly, an icy breeze entered through the half-open window and swept through the room, raising goosebumps on the girl’s skin.

“Dad, it’s so cold in here,” she said, hugging herself.

“I think I’ll go to my room. I’ve beaten you too many times already.”

Victor smiled, running his hand through her hair.

“Okay, my love. Go warm yourself up,” he replied with the typical affection of a protective father.

Clara then carefully gathered the cards from the game and ran towards the hallway.

While running, he noticed something familiar.

The door to her parents’ bedroom was ajar.

I knew very well what that meant.

Catalina, her mother, always took refuge there on cold days, wrapped in blankets like a child.

Curious, Clara pushed the door open with her fingertips and looked inside, but what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

There, lying under a thick blanket, was her mother, hugging Luna.

The two of them were asleep, huddled together.

The scene was beautiful, but the younger girl couldn’t contain her jealousy.

“How beautiful, huh?” he murmured, crossing his arms.

“I’m the youngest, and you stay on Mommy’s lap.”

Luna slowly opened her eyes, laughed at her sister’s reaction, and teased her with a small smile.

Catalina, for her part, settled into the bed and left space between them.

“There’s room for you too, my little one,” her mother said, extending her arm.

“Come here, come warm up with us.”

Clara jumped onto the bed without a second thought.

She snuggled between them, wrapping herself completely in the blanket.

The three of them began to laugh, hugging each other, warmed not only by the blanket, but by the love they felt for one another.

Minutes later, Victor appeared at the door, looking surprised.

“And nobody called me,” he joked, entering the room with open arms.

“I want to warm up too.”

Luna laughed.

“But Dad, you’re taking the whole blanket. I’m getting cold in here.”

“Then come here, Luna. Let’s do more group hugs so we can all warm up,” Catalina said, laughing.

And so the four of them snuggled up in bed like a happy family.

Laughter echoed throughout the house, passing through the walls and filling every corner with joy.

Little did they know that this would be the last night they would all laugh together.