How little do we refer to death when he is so inevitably in our lives? We surround him with a veil of silence and fear in an attempt to degrade and remove him from our lives. But life has chosen, so resolutely to contain him.

Just one moment is enough to make us realize our permeability. Sometimes, it is the only way for some to grasp the gift of life. After all, as William Wallace had said ...

Every man dies. Not every man really lives.

It was a rainy Saturday and although the weather was hazy, there was no sadness swinging, only deep emotion. The church was crowded, but a vacancy in the second row caught my attention. I don't know if I chose it or it chose me... In a magical way, without any prior understanding, everyone took their places. Kids, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, all around the Mr. Christos. A kind and gentle man, who could only convey his kindness and sweetness, even at the time of farewell.

I am always impressed when I see young children in funerals. Intuitively and not unfairly, we try to protect them from the "evil". But they have a very true and moving approach, full of life and not fear. Nothing had prepared me for what I was going to see ...

As everyone took their seats before the ceremony even began, some approached Mr. Christos, wishing for a few minutes to say goodbye to him personally. Amid the whispers and preparation, a little boy appears from behind and decisively steps in, approaching his grandfather. He did not care if anyone was looking at him, nor for a minute did he seem afraid or hesitating. Approaching, he got up on his toes in an effort to look at him better at that moment. I stood up, almost motionless, a witness of this moment, who seemed to have stabbed me. It took a few minutes, only for the two of them, gasping to observe him, but I felt he was allowing me to look at them from afar. His face was changing shapes. Question, indecision, curiosity, sadness and somewhere there, before the end there seemed a small smile .A small cheeky grin. As if they whispered to each other there, so conspiring a moment only for the two of them, indifferent to the others, indifferent to me. In the same conspiracy way that they may have been doing all these years, right now, for the last time. The little boy stretched out his hand with all his might and stroked him gently on the head. How many emotions can a single movement release when all the words in the world seem so poor!

And so he stood on his feet again. His face lit up, shining, and with a croak he crossed the corridor of the church. Confident and determined he opened the door and went out to play. The church area was shone with light. As if the sun was rising even higher, against the rain. It flooded with hope, with love, it flooded with him... He had chosen life. I have not seen a truer farewell, and a more powerful proof of death in life and life in death.