As the four men, dressed in crisp black suits, hefted the pine box onto their shoulders, the sun shined down on them like it always did, unaffected by the occasion taking place in the well taken care of cemetery.

   Men stood tall and silent, expressions pinched with dejection and ache. Women sobbed into their husband's shoulders, hands clasped together tightly, as if trying to hold on to what little faith they had left. Children either squirmed in their seats or were held by their parents, each of them clearly wanting to get up and play, not knowing why they were dressed in anything other than their usual, comfortable attire.

   The sound of crying mixed with the pastor's heavyhearted words made each adult cringe back into their skin. Everyone wanted nothing more than to leave the cemetery immediately, but none of them would dare walk out until what had to be done was finished.

   When the men carrying the box positioned it on the ground, a slim woman with dark circles under her eyes, no more than thirty, burst from the sea of people like a tsunami, almost knocking a few down.

   She threw herself at the box, falling to her knees, clinging to the edge desperately. She cried out, the words unintelligible. Then, quietly making his way through the crowd, a man of the same age appeared at her side, picking her up off the ground. Her solid black dress was covered in grass and dirt. He packed her from the service, saying inaudible things to try and calm her.

   The scene only made everyone drop their heads to the ground, made tears flow harder.

   Once all the flowers were left at the box, all the words said and hands brushed against the smooth, dark wood, the four men lifted the box back up and began to lower it into the hole that had been dug the previous day.

   Their hearts were like sinking ships as they despairingly worked. Grief hung in the air, an inescapable bird in the trees, looming over them, watching without pity.

   Each of the men stopped every few minutes to take a break and catch their breath. It wasn't that it was hard labor, or that the box was too heavy for them. No, the box was actually very light. But the weight of what they were having to do weighed down on them like a boulder.

   After all, the smallest coffins are often the heaviest.