On such an rare occasion I skipped the Sunday mass this week. Rather I went to the small church at Seijo in the afternoon, chose to have some private time there to console my compromised state of mind. It is always the place first comes to my mind when I think about retreat.

There were bunches of lilies surrounding a portrait of an elderly man. I guessed there was or there would be a funeral. I could not see if his body was at the altar as I did not draw nearer.

I could only hear birds sang at that moment.

I did not feel scared. This church was as quiet and undisturbed as it used to be, a suitable place to house men who needed to rest. First time I feel that death can be that tranquil and calm.

I know the altar will someday be my destiny here on this world. I am not particularly afraid of it as I believe it will not be the end. The body of a church does not end at the altar but further there will be a cross on top. A cross, that is lifted up for me.

I do not know him but may he rest in peace. May his relatives' heart be comforted, till they meet again.