Even though the main promenade was pretty long, from far away I could see big black flags fluttering on top of the cemetery's new mortuary at the end of that path, and as we went along, Mother tripped all of a sudden. "It's okay," she said, explaining that the clasp had loosened up on her shoe, that was all, I should wait a minute while she adjusted it, and she squatted. Meanwhile I took out of my pocket the medal I got from my grandfather for my birthday, and with one hand I undid its safety pin and pinned the medal over my heart, right where my grandfather had pinned it back when he wore it, and I pricked myself a bit while trying to fasten the medal to myself, but what did I care.
Mother noticed that medal the moment she stood up, and I knew she was about to tell me to take it off, but before she could have said a thing, this lady stopped right beside us, she came over so fast that I could even hear the swishing of her skirt, and she had on a hat that was bigger and had a wider brim than any hat I'd ever seen before, and this black veil was hanging from that hat all around so you couldn't make out the lady's face at all, and for a moment I thought that maybe it was my grandmother, but then I saw that it wasn't, this lady was much taller and much thinner, and when she then folded the veil back over the top of her hat I saw that she was much older too, not that I knew who the lady was, but she must have recognized us, for she said to Mother right away, "Hey there, dear," and she leaned close to Mother's face and gave her a peck on each cheek, and then she stepped back and all of a sudden she began crying really loud, and she raised an arm and pressed a big white handkerchief to her eyes and just stood there like that for around two seconds, and as she pressed that handkerchief to her eyes I noticed that she had on white threaded gloves, but she'd slipped a big ring with a seal on it onto her ring finger over the glove, and now that the handkerchief was covering this old lady's face completely, Mother gave a little hiss in my direction, motioning with her head that we should go, but then all of a sudden the lady lowered the handkerchief, her eyes were glistening with tears, and she said what a sad day this was, seeing as how this dear man had left us like this, and then she leaned close to Mother and asked, in a whisper, "Is it true what people are saying, did he really kill himself?"
Mother shook her head and said she didn't know, and she gave me a little wink to signal that we should get going already, and she said, "Don't be angry, dear Miss Yvonne, but we must be going," and as she stepped away the old lady grabbed Mother's arm and yanked her back, pulling mother right up to her and whispering with such a hiss that I could hear it clearly too, that she would have my mother know that my grandfather had killed himself because he'd always loved her, his dear sweet Yvonne, yes, he'd shot himself in the heart because he could no longer bear having lived his life without her and that she would also have my mother know that my grandmother hid his farewell letter because that would reveal the truth. "But it's all right, it's all right," she said, "fate will do him justice, anyway, you'll see, you will, yes indeed," and she nodded so hard while saying this that the veil fell back over her face. Then she began sobbing again, and she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes through the veil this time, and that's when Mother took my arm and pulled me with her toward the mortuary, saying we should go because we really wouldn't get there for the start of the service, and I looked back because I was scared the old lady would come after us, but she didn't move an inch, no, she just stood there on the sidewalk along the cemetery's broad main promenade adjusting her hat, so then I asked Mother what this was all about, and she said it was nothing, just Miss Yvonne, a crazy old woman who used to be my grandmother's best friend a long time ago and who was obsessed by the thought that Grandfather should have married her instead, for years she kept on his heels and stirred up awful scenes all the time, but this didn't matter now, we shouldn't talk about it, I should just forget the whole thing because we were just about there anyway.
The funeral march sounded a bit distorted and scratchy as it blared away from big black speakers set up on stands, and the closer we got, the more of a crowd there was, but all we had to say was "Sorry, please let us by," and everyone stepped dutifully to the side, looking at us like we were famous people or something, lots of folks said hello and almost everyone said my grandfather was a fine man and how sorry they were, and they asked us to accept their sincere sympathies, and Mother just kept nodding left and right, and I also nodded a lot, and that's how we went on ahead toward the main steps all the way up to the huge, black, gold-inlaid double door, which I'd never seen open before, not that I'd been at too many funerals, especially not one like this, and by now people were standing all over the steps, but when they saw Mother they stepped right aside, and then we went up the steps between all those men in dark suits and women in black outfits, and we went in the door.
I figured it would be dark in there, or at least low-lit like churches mostly are, but instead the light was so blinding I almost got dizzy, three whole circles of light bulbs hung one on top of the other from a steel chandelier that branched off in all directions, there must have been at least two hundred bulbs, so anyway, Mother took my hand and that's how we went forward, the room was really big, and even though there were red drapes all over the walls the picture of the general secretary of the armed forces wasn't on show, there were only all sorts of displays with long quotes from his speeches. And then, all at once, I saw the coffin.
The rear third of the mortuary floor was raised by about a foot, a little like a stage, and the coffin was laid on a reddraped table in the middle of a platform, it was big and black, and it really was closed, and its varnish glistened so darkly that it looked almost fluid, and three tall, black oil-burning torches stood on each side of the coffin, but they weren't lit.
As soon as we stopped, a young man came over holding a maroon leather folder, he greeted us and introduced himself but he was talking so fast I didn't understand his name, and he gave us his sincere sympathies and a warm welcome, he said he was Comrade Bherekméri's secretary, the city's Party committee had entrusted him with organizing this event, and would we be so kind as to step onto the platform, immediate family members have to stand up there, so would we please go on over, there beside the comrade, and he pointed toward the coffin, and that's when I realized that he was pointing toward my grandmother, who was standing to the right of the coffin, all alone, staring right at the coffin as if she hadn't even seen us arrive.
Mother didn't move, she just kept standing there before the platform, but then the secretary waved his folder toward the coffin and told us to hurry because Comrade Bherekméri would arrive soon to give his farewell speech in person, and as the secretary said this he pointed to the side, to a microphone-equipped pulpit by the red-draped wall in front of the platform, so we then started off, first Mother stepped onto the platform and then so did I, and the secretary came with us too.
Up on the platform the lighting was even stronger, what with a row of white neon lights above the rear wall of the mortuary, which was covered with a big ornamental tapestry depicting a machine-gun-toting partisan in the middle of a wheat field, symbolically forging a wedge from several swords broken in two, and in the background of this brightly lit tapestry, behind approaching tractors, were mountains plus our homeland's treasures, its pine forests and its oil wells, so anyway, Mother and I then went over next to my grandmother, but to the left of the coffin, and I said as usual, "I kiss your hand," but as if my grandmother hadn't even heard me, she just looked at Mother and said under her breath that she should be ashamed of herself, what was she thinking, how dare she show her face here, and my grandmother added that she'd like nothing more than to spit in Mother's face, yes, she said, she'd chase her out of here but good.