After the eulogy and service, the mourners filed past Don Rafael’s casket and said a few words or shed a few tears.
“Rest in peace my friend.”
“We will miss you.”
“God bless you.”
I had known Raphael for over twenty-five years and Mario, who was with me, came from the same small village. We had come to pay our respects at the old man’s funeral.
“That was a nice ceremony,” I said, as Mario drove me to the airport.
“Yes, it was,” Mario said. “Everyone in the village was there and his friends came from all over Belize for the funeral.”
“I hope I get that much respect when I die,” I said.
“Me, too,” said Mario. “Everyone had something good to say about Rafael.”
“We all pass away sooner or later,” I said. “I hope that when I am lying in my casket people will say that I was a good and honest man who lived a long, happy life.”
“That would be nice,” Mario said.
“What about you?” I asked. “What would you like them to say about you?”
“I want somebody to say, ‘Hey, look! He’s moving!’”