A Daughter-in-Law’s Tears That Wouldn’t Fade
The rain tapped against the rusted roof as mournful trumpets played. In the yard, a gold-painted coffin rested on wooden chairs, holding Elena—just 25, gone too soon after complications in childbirth.
“Elena was a blessing,” her mother-in-law, Helen, always said. She treated her husband’s family like her own. But one night, severe stomach pain sent her to the hospital. Before her baby’s first cry, Elena took her last breath.
At her funeral, when pallbearers tried to lift her coffin, it wouldn’t move. A shaman whispered, “Open it. She still has something to say.” When the lid was raised, two faint tear streaks marked Elena’s face.
Her husband, Louis, broke down. “It’s my fault,” he confessed. “She discovered I had someone else. She cried all night, holding her stomach. I promised to end it… but she collapsed before I could make things right.”
The coffin trembled, then lifted easily—as if Elena’s spirit had finally released her pain.
Louis wept into the rain, knowing no apology could ever undo the wound he caused. For the rest of his life, Elena’s tear-stained face would haunt his dreams.
