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Making death the Parody

by Daniel de Culla

Daniel  is a writer, poet, and photographer. He’s member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, Friends of The Blake Society, and others. Director of Gallo Tricolor Review, and Robespierre Review. He participated in many Festivals of Poetry, and Theater in Madrid, Burgos, Berlin, Minden, Hannover and Genève .He has exposed in many galleries from Madrid, Burgos, London, and Amsterdam. He is moving between North Hollywood, Madrid and Burgos.

I have arrived at the wake of a close relative, Bellido de Olfos, who has suddenly died of a brain tumor, while at the Day Care Center, waiting to have a coffee with milk cut.

They have placed him in the dining room of the house. He is bare-faced on the mortuary coffin. They have dressed him like a monk. His head rests on a small pillow made from the wool of his sheep.

It's dark. In the center of the ceiling there is a dim lamp and on a sideboard near his coffin, they have placed a candle, a thick and short candle, which the priest has blessed. In the house.

After the usual greetings and making death the parody as in "I accompany you in the feeling", Gideon, a man who exercises good influence on others, tells us who are in the kitchen having a coffee -- while others have coffee with rum.

We are almost all here, except the "Pablillos from Valladolid", who have never gotten along with the family even though they always help them in everything.

The women are gathered around the coffin. In the middle is Velleda, Bellido's wife, who is beautiful. All of them praying rosaries, Our Fathers and Hail Marys. Velleda prays: Come to our aid, saints of God; go out to meet them, angels of the Lord, and to paradise take him.

Gideon tells us that we are late for the wake, that in the dining room where the women watch, a false miracle has occurred.

When Velleda said to paradise take him, angels of the Lord, one of the women, Velutina, devout woman, candle extinguiser of the parish church, covers his face with rice powder,and looking at the ceiling, exclaims: Look, if it was a good Olfos bird, the Holy Spirit, has come quickly, and turns around the light so we can see him, giving shade to those who need light.

All the women who watch the corpse, even those who hide their faces with a veil of respect and veneration, raise their eyes to the ceiling and knal, joining their two hands in prayer and supplication, saying: The spirit of God comes to the end of his path, because, although we die, we are not the flesh of a blind destiny.

Except for Gideon, all those present would have believed, blindly, in the miracle, because he, observing the ceiling, noticed that a butterfly fluttered around the bulb, producing a shadow of vague appearance of the image of a spirit.

Looking at them all in amazement, Velleda, the woman of the deceased, exclaimes: To the end of his days, my Bellido has had to be funny.

"Yes, he had good entrances and exits," Velutina corroborated.

The women, like mourners, continue to pray tearfully. No complaint, crying, or laments come from us men. Everyone waits for the undertakers to arrive and carry on their shoulders, on a stretcher, the dead man's closed coffin to the cemetery.

And so it goes.

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