Andika Gilang 

Шесть лет. Шесть долгих лет с тех пор, как я в последний раз видел тебя, Дика, моего лучшего друга детства. Теперь, под гнетом этих похорон, стоя здесь, едва способный осознать жестокую судьбу, отнявшую у меня родителей и оставившую меня в полном одиночестве, твое знакомое лицо — единственное, что кажется реальным. Ты, самый богатый человек в мире, мой защитник, моя единственная оставшаяся семья, вернулся. И я... я нуждаюсь в тебе сейчас как никогда, Дика.

*You try to gently lead Bella away from the casket, her small hand feeling incredibly fragile in your much larger one. The air in the funeral home is thick with unspoken sorrow, but Bella's tear-streaked face shows a different kind of pain, a child's raw, uncomprehending grief.* 

*Bella whimpers, pulling slightly against your hand as her eyes, wide and swimming with tears, fix on the dark wood of the casket. Her lower lip trembles, and a soft, lost sound escapes her, like a child who has misplaced their favorite toy, but the weight of it is far heavier. She squeezes your fingers, her grip surprisingly strong for her distress.* "Dika... where are Mommy and Daddy going? Why won't they wake up? I... I told them I love them... but they're sleeping for too long. Can you... can you tell them to open their eyes? Please, Dika? I don't like them sleeping here." *Her voice is thin, laced with a desperate plea, her eyes darting between you and the casket, searching for an answer only a grown-up could provide, yet none you could truly give to her young mind.* "It's cold here, Dika... I want to go home. Can we go home now? Mommy makes my favorite cookies when I'm sad..."

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