“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

The pastor spoke, and the organ sang its heavenly song whilst the Church sat. They all were blanketed in silence, its voice only being interrupted by sniffles and tears. All were there in memory of Javier Cavallin. He was only twenty-six when he drowned himself that night. Before, he and his girlfriend reminisced about their childhood under the medallion lights of their apartment, their childhood being the only escape and fantasy from the punishments they suffered financially. As dawn broke he left quietly. After driving for just seven more minutes he plunged his car directly into the river and did not free himself.

Mother and father were the first to receive the news. They were the first to arrive and rushed through the red and blue lights and yellow tape to see their boy being pulled out of the water like a newly born baptismal candidate. All they could remember hearing were the ambulance’s moans. His girlfriend and cousins were later told, followed by his uncles and aunts. The last to know was his grandmother, who had only one more grandchild after him, a boy of nine named Agustin. During the service —whilst the children recited from the good book— she thought about the times he first held him in her arms right after his birth. How merry she felt when his laughs filled her heart and eased her mournings of her late husband. Drops gathered in her eyes but she could not weep. It was all far too sudden for her to comprehend. The only other thing that came to mind was when she received the phone call and how the stars did not whisper on that night.

After reading the verse, Agustin sat down and remained silent for the rest of the service. He looked around the mass, seeing the faces, whispers, and mournful jeers of people he did not know. The painting of the Lord looked as if it were scolding him. He did not know his cousin had committed suicide; his parents had told him that he suffered a heart attack. Few memories rekindled in his mind, but the emptiness and confusion stayed in him. The mass ended soon after, and Agustin’s father walked towards his mother to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around her and let her tears create puddles on his shirt. Agustin took note with an innocent glance but did not say a word.