All the members of the family gathered near the fireplace. They tried to console each other by holding each other's hands. They went through a tragedy, three of their family members were killed in a plane crash. Their tradition was to cremate the bones and turn it into ashes for scattering it around, but there was no body to cremate.
So, they brought their photos in the fireplace and made an ash to scatter in the river near the house. This loss was like a burden that weighed heavy on their shoulders. They were all silent while the photos were being burned and they felt the coldness in the house.
It was a deafening silence and it was not bearable. They were angry and they were sad. Why they were denied of the body of their loved ones? It was like one of those nightmares that you would want to wake up immediately.
The house itself was mourning as well.
The silence kept going for a while until one member started to talk about "The Good Old Days" and "The Bad Old Days" the good memories and the bad memories seemed to have no difference. When they were reminded of them, it filled their hearts with passion and love for their love ones who were dead.
They shared and shared and cried and laughed until there was nothing more to say, nothing more to do. They didn't want to say goodbye, because they wanted to feel them by their side at all time. They felt a bitter loneliness. They thought that they are lucky to have each other. They finally scattered the ashes and the wind and the river took it.
