Today was the day of the funeral, after 5 days of the wake at 133's void deck.

He loved her, we all could tell. They were inseparable, by glue of heartfelt vows. She loved him more, her life and its plans proved them. It was good while it lasted but now, he's on his own. It was the moment for final words, before she would be immortalised to ashes. He laid the white roses against her clasped hands. The scarlet rosary rivered down her stomach, just like the fragrance of flowers that flooded the wooden void that kept her body. He said nothing and resumed pretending on complacency. She was still present, she was still visible and within sight.

The cohort headed to the viewing mall. She was 8 feet away from him. He had already missed his final chance at reaching out to touch her. He placed his palms against the glass panel and imagined her never going away. The lacquered teak box now gravely rolled towards the furnace. Soon, she would vanish forever.

His eyes darted with dreaded anticipation. Tears began to apple his throat. His chest bobbed with hysteria. But the coffin didn't stop nearing the oven.

He gripped onto his rosary and silently spoke to her. He didn't bat a blink, fearful that a split second would steal away his wife, his confidante, his best friend, his everything.

The Door opened. Sprinkles of gasps could be heard. Some broke into desperation of tears.

Then we watched him squat down, in utter helplessness and sorrow. His pain washed his face, his loss expressed in his lack of physical control. He couldn't imagine the tomorrows without her. Nearly three decades of togetherness, now cruelly broken by her body's nature.

The coffin still rolled very solemnly and slowly, in between The Door now. Just as it was almost done with its final journey of bidding metaphoric farewells, he broke out.

"Nana, we all love you. Nana, I love you".

We clearly heard. Most of us were breaking apart, witnessing the separation.

I cried a bitter one and mumbled to God in chants of,"It should not be this hard. It shouldn't. Lord, You can do better than this to ease his pain."

So you see, there will always be a name that leads your life, one that your existence revolves around; one that follows suit with every breath you make. Her name was his and his was hers.

I wish I could tell you, that your name arose like flipping pages of a beautiful memoir. His pain was real to me.