Am I the only one here who doesn't want to see the dead body of someone who's died? On one hand we have people who are demanding to see the body and asking when they can come by and see the body and when, when, when will the body arrive at home and on the other hand, I subconsciously move two steps away for every one step the men carrying the rig with the body wrapped in a white sheet take forward. My mum insists I see the face. Don't want to, I mutter and go outside. Watching these people excitedly craning their necks to see the body is beyond my ability to digest.

This morning my dad was sleeping in my deceased aunt's bed, the top of his head poking out of the quilt, much the way hers used to. Scared the crap out of me, that did. Today is the soyem. More people bawling and excitedly roaming about the house, asking each other in hushed whispers at each room if this one is my aunts' room. Is it any wonder I don't like people?