Hello everyone again after a three-day hiatus. My followers have noticed that I haven't been able to post for a few days. I had to stay away from the virtual world due to a tiring 12-hour bus journey and some urgent work. My last articles were on the game of chess. I even started a series of articles on teaching children chess. I will continue that series of articles, but today I will tell you about a different subject. Our topic is happy death.

About 10 days ago, I told you that my father has a health problem. Two hours before my father died, I learned that he had heart failure. He actually had an anemia problem. We thought that he had a breathing problem due to the lack of blood in his body. Because he had a similar problem 2 years ago when he had stomach bleeding. However, this time he was diagnosed with heart failure and my father hid it from us. Adults can be kids sometimes. Since my sister and I live in a different city 12 hours away from our parents, we did not have the opportunity to reach the truth.

I got the news of my father's death while I was eating at home after my dental treatment. My mother was sobbing on the phone like a little child. She said she couldn't wake my father and that he was gone. My father died while he was sleeping. I was happy for my father that he died peacefully while he was sleeping. At that moment, I was not sad that my father died, but that my mother was sobbing. Imagine a 68-year-old woman sobbing like a child. It is very normal for a person to cry. Anyone can cry, no matter how old they are. However, there was a childlike purity and sincerity in my mother's crying. That's when I realized that we had switched roles. In any negative situation, children cry out to their parents and hope that they can find a solution in desperation. Here's my mother, like a little child, telling me that my father was gone. Parents become children after a certain age and we children become like their parents.

Besides, it fell to me to console my sister. She started to cry like a child too. Of course, it is not easy for a person to accept the death of their father or husband. I understand them very well. As for me, I have never cried. I don't think I will cry anymore. I didn't cry because I didn't approach this situation like my sister and mother. I wasn't even sad because my father died. Death is not a punishment, but a salvation. According to our belief, it is not right to shed tears after a deceased person. Do not take this as a rigid understanding. Islam is a religion that gives flexibility to people in many issues, and relaxes people psychologically. Of course, we certainly tolerate those who weep after their loved ones have passed away.

It can be said that my father lived a good life. My father was a person who tried to live honestly, believed in God and took care to fulfill his prayers.

Today I will tell you a little about the funeral ceremony. I would like to tell you what kind of funeral rituals are performed in our country in accordance with our religion. This may sound interesting to you.

First, the deceased is taken to the morgue. I think there is a similar application all over the world. Our hospital morgues have a section for washing the dead. According to Islamic principles, the dead should be buried cleanly. After the body of the deceased is washed by the officials, it is wrapped in white cloth and carried to the cemetery in a coffin. Funeral prayers are held near the cemetery, and then the deceased is buried. We do not bury our dead in coffins. We just wrap it in white fabric and bury it. I briefly described the ritual. Now I want to talk about my experiences at my father's burial.

The clergy of the village where my parents lived came with me to the hospital morgue in the early hours of the morning to wash my father's body. I waited in front of the door while the two attendants washed my father's body. Then one of the attendants opened the door and said that I had to pour water on my father's body one last time. I hesitated at first because I had never approached a dead body before. After gathering my courage, I entered the washing section and poured water on my father's body for the last time. After wrapping it in white cloth, we wrapped it in a blanket so that it would not be damaged while being transported, and we placed my father's dead body in the coffin together with the religious officials. We loaded the coffin in the hearse and took it to the cemetery. The people of the village came there and the funeral prayer was performed.

After the funeral prayer, the coffin had to be carried to the grave. This is a very interesting part because people are competing with each other because they believe that carrying a coffin brings a lot of rewards. Coffin carriers change every 5-10 seconds. In other words, while you are carrying the coffin, someone comes and takes your place. A few people are even competing to take your place. This may sound strange to you. It seemed strange to me, too, and I didn't really get into that race. I could only carry the coffin for 6-7 seconds.

When we arrived at the tomb where my father would be buried, his body was removed from the coffin. The body of the deceased must be lowered into the grave by one of his children or relatives. This is a very important ritual. So I had to enter the grave dug for my father. My cousin went into the tomb with me. Then other people gave us the dead body, and my cousin and I placed my father in the tomb. So, I placed my father in his grave with an embrace. I didn't have any feelings about it. I was pretty calm. I did what I had to do. After covering the grave with earth, we placed the tombstone and the funeral ceremony ended after the religious official said a few prayers. We bid farewell to my father...

May God forgive his sins and accept him into heaven.

I'm not really sorry. I was even happy that he died in his sleep. I have never cried and will never cry.

Remember, death is salvation, not punishment.