A Silent Presence…

A little girl hugged her father in the creepy coffin.

Camila was 8 years old and stood next to the coffin, not moving.

They had been at the wake for hours and she hadn’t left their side for even a second.

Her mother tried to take her several times, but she didn’t want to leave.

She said she wanted to stay with her dad and she didn’t cry, she just looked at him in silence.

People came to offer their condolences and some looked at her with pity, but she didn’t respond, she just stood there, her hands resting on the edge of the coffin.

Julian’s body was dressed in a white shirt that he liked and he had his arms crossed over his chest.

He looked pale but calm.

Grandma’s house was full of people.

Some spoke softly, others cried, and the children ran around the yard without fully understanding what was happening.

But Camila didn’t move.

Since they arrived he didn’t want to eat anything or sit down.

He only asked for a chair so he could reach his dad better and be close to him.

Some thought she was in shock, but Grandma said to leave her alone, that everyone has their own way of saying goodbye.

The mother did not want to argue and ended up accepting.

Although she looked tired and her eyes were puffy, she didn’t insist further.

Hours passed and the atmosphere became more tense.

It was already night and there was still time to take the coffin to the cemetery.

The adults began to notice that something was not right, not with the body, but with the girl.

She had stopped talking, just sat in the chair with her arms crossed on the edge, staring at her dad.

Some tried to talk to him, but he didn’t respond.

He didn’t cry or make any gestures.

It seemed as if he was waiting for something.

And although no one said it out loud, many began to feel a kind of discomfort that they couldn’t explain.

As if the calm in the girl was too strange, as if something were about to happen.

That night nobody slept.

Some stayed on the porch talking in low voices, while others wandered in and out of the living room to see how things were going.

Camila remained next to the coffin without moving.

She looked tired, but didn’t want to lie down or go away.

Then Grandma brought her a blanket and put it over her shoulders.

No one insisted further.

A long time passed and most of them began to get distracted.

Some went out to smoke, others went to the kitchen for coffee, and the mother sat in a corner with her head back and her eyes closed.

At that moment, Camila climbed onto the chair, placed one knee on the edge of the coffin, and carefully climbed out.

He did it slowly, as if he had already thought about it.

No one noticed until she was already inside, lying on top of her dad’s body, hugging him tightly.

When one of the aunts turned around and saw her there, she screamed without thinking and everyone ran.

It was chaos.

At first they thought she had fainted or was having a seizure, but when they got closer they saw something that left them speechless.

Julian’s hand was on Camila’s back, as if he were hugging her too.

Some froze, and others started saying that the girl had moved it, but it didn’t make sense because the hand wasn’t in a forced position, it was resting naturally and the arm was slightly raised.

One of the men tried to push her away, but the grandmother wouldn’t let him.

He said to wait, that something strange was happening.

Camila wasn’t moving, but she didn’t seem unconscious.

Camila wasn’t moving, but she didn’t seem unconscious. Her breathing was soft and even, as if she were sleeping peacefully, lulled by her father’s cool embrace. Julián’s hand, the same hand that had held hers so many times on walks in the park, now rested on her back. It was a protective gesture, a goodbye that defied all logic. The aunt who had screamed burst into tears, not from fear, but from a deep, painful tenderness. Her mother, who had remained in a state of lethargy, sat up suddenly, her eyes filled with a mixture of horror and astonishment.

Silence fell over the room, a silence much heavier and denser than before. There were no more whispers, no more cries, no more noise from the children. All eyes were fixed on the coffin, on the sleeping girl and the father who, in some way, was comforting her. The air felt thick, charged with an energy no one could understand. The grandmother, the only one who seemed to remain calm, knelt beside the coffin and gently stroked her granddaughter’s hair.

“Leave her alone,” he whispered in a shaky voice. “It’s okay.”

No one dared contradict her. The scene was too sacred, too inexplicable. The minutes stretched into an eternity. Moonlight filtered through the window, bathing the room in a ghostly glow that made everything seem like a dream. Suddenly, Camila let out a long, deep sigh. Her father’s hand slowly slid from her back and returned to its original position on her chest.

Camila opened her eyes. She looked around, as if waking from a very long sleep. Her gaze met her mother’s, who was staring at her in despair. Camila stood up from the coffin, with the help of her grandmother, and went to her mother. She gave her a hug so tight that her mother felt a chill. In that hug, there was no weight of grief, but a peace and tranquility that filled her heart.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” Camila whispered in her mother’s ear. “Daddy went to sleep, but he told me not to worry, that he’ll always be with me.”

And after saying that, she finally cried. She cried with all the pain and sadness she’d been bottling up for hours. She cried for the loss, for the love, for the goodbye. And her mom held her tight, never letting go, while everyone else in the room felt the air become a little lighter, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from their shoulders. The goodbye, at last, had come.