Everyone, who knew him or not, cried at his funeral. Each face had been serious and transformed by sadness. If some cried in silence, only having tears running down their cheeks, others could not stay until the end of the ceremony, leaving loudly the church.

I see all the faces in my head. I see his family faces ravaged by the tears. I see his parents crying their child. I see every veiled look through the transparent curtain of tears. I see them clearly. And then, I see myself, sad, devasted, but unable to cry. In this sea of tears, I am the only one to have remained aboard the sinking ship.

The tears have not yet flowed. After a week. After a month. After half a year. Nothing. Not a single drop.

Yet the feeling of emptiness is still present, continuing to weave its web of darkness. The sadness does not leave me one second, its balls hung around my ankles.

I do not know and I do not understand why I still have not cried. Will I cry him one day? Is it necessary to cry someone's death? Can we move forward without going through this act?

I would like and I would have wanted to cry. I would have liked to express all the feelings that are ravaging my soul and my heart today. I wish I could release the pain of my body. I wanted to express my anger through tears. I wish he could see how much he had hurt me. How deep his departure had dug a huge hole in me. I would have liked him to notice the mistake he made. I would have liked him to feel guilty for his gesture by seeing my tears. Through them, I would have liked him to see, but especially to feel, what he was doing to all the people who loved him.

I do not ask to cry for days. I did not ask to cry the day of his funeral. I did not ask for thousands of tears. Just one. I just wanted to feel a tear run down my cheek and see it crashing heavily to the ground. I just wish he saw a single tear. Only one.

I did not ask for a river or a sea.

I only asked for a proof of my suffering.