"Let us pray for him, for both men and women are like flowers in the valley, blooming today and perhaps wilting tomorrow. Human life is like a season, coming and going. Let us pray."
Inside the church, the pastor was saying the benediction with a heavy heart.
Peter Patrick sat in the middle pew in a black suit, with Clark and Mark on his left and right.
The two little boys, who had been sulking, had reconciled after Mark's formal apology.
Mark tilted his head and quietly asked Peter Patrick, "Daddy, what happens to people after they die?"
"Some people believe we go to Heaven or Hell, and some believe we are reborn like children."
"Carnation? Like General Ross in the movie 'Audrey General Ross'?"
"Not Carnation, it's Rebirth."
Peter Patrick corrected his pronunciation mistake.
(The English pronunciation of 'Rebirth' is similar to 'Carnation'.)
"Wait!"
Peter Patrick looked at Mark, "Isn't 'Audrey General Ross' a horror movie? I told you, John, you can't watch horror movies."
When Mark saw Peter Patrick's serious face, he immediately blamed Clark.
"Clark told me about it, I didn't watch it."
Clark's little face immediately became even more dejected.
He didn't like the atmosphere of the church to begin with, and attending a funeral for the first time, especially one in a church, filled him with a sense of awe. He felt somewhat quiet and uneasy.
The pastor on the pulpit had already finished his benediction.
Clark explained to Peter Patrick with a bitter face, "I accidentally saw it on TV, Godfather."
"Uh-huh, next time you see it, you can ask My Lord to change the channel."
Clark nodded obediently.
"Daddy, is there more?"
Mark still wanted to hear more about Death.
Clark had a reverence for Death, but Mark didn't feel much about Death.
"Catholics believe in Heaven and Hell, but they also believe there's a place called the border of Hell, and another place called Purgatory, while Hindus and Buddhists believe in Nirvana—"
The two little boys listened quietly.
Peter Patrick spoke more slowly, "There might be more theories, but the truth is, no one knows what happens after Death. People say they know, and they say that because their faith makes them believe their own statements. Do you know what faith is?"
Both shook their heads, "No."
Peter Patrick said to them, "It's like this: we're sitting on chairs now. Do you think my chair will still be here tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then you have a kind of faith; you believe it will still be here. I also believe. Faith is believing what something will be like, or believing what it is like. Understand?"
"Understood."
Clark nodded affirmingly.
Mark scratched his head and said, "But we don't know if it will still be here. Maybe a chair thief might break in and steal it, right?"
Clark said to Mark, "Then you have no faith."
"My faith is the same as Daddy's, Daddy?"
Mark's gaze turned to Peter Patrick, "Daddy, what do you believe in?"
"My faith?"
Peter Patrick was startled.
What was his faith?
Money, power, or worldly authority?
It seemed he wanted them all, but also that none of them were very important to him.
Just as he didn't know how to answer, the pastor's voice "rescued" him.
Hearing the pastor's "Please, pallbearers, come forward," Peter Patrick gave instructions to the two boys and walked forward.
He greeted Louis Wilson, a man in his thirties with glasses, whom he didn't know very well.
Although this not-so-familiar cousin had the pain of losing a family member on his face, he seemed quite strong.
After exchanging a few pleasantries with his cousin, he looked towards Clark and Mark.
He found that both of them had already disappeared.
Shaking his head, he focused his attention on the coffin in front of him.
Afternoon.
After the funeral, Peter Patrick drove Clark and Mark back to the farm.
The car radio was playing Stephens's "This Old House."
"Daddy, you won't believe what we saw."
Mark said to Peter Patrick boastfully, "We saw the Deadman lying in the coffin."
Upon hearing Mark's words, Peter Patrick's brow immediately furrowed.
"That's very disrespectful, John."
Peter Patrick scolded Mark, the culprit, a few times.
There was no need to guess; he knew Mark was the one who instigated Clark to go with him.
"I know I was wrong, Daddy."
Mark hung his head dejectedly and admitted his mistake to Peter Patrick.
Seeing that the other quickly admitted his mistake, Peter Patrick didn't pursue it further, and the car soon arrived at the farm.
Late night.
"Ding-a-ling!"
The farm's phone suddenly rang.
Peter Patrick, who had already fallen asleep, put on his clothes, walked to the living room, and picked up the phone.
"This is Peter Patrick. Yes, yes, good, I understand."
After hanging up the phone, Peter Patrick's brow immediately furrowed.
He put on his clothes, went upstairs to check if Mark and Clark were sound asleep, then went downstairs and took the car keys from the wall.
The night outside was dim, and a light rain "pitter-pattered" on the ground.
The car's headlights pierced the gloomy night.
Peter Patrick drove the car and soon arrived at the cemetery he had visited earlier that day.
Several Police cars were parked around the cemetery, their glaring red lights flashing in the night.
After getting out of the car, Peter Patrick walked towards the spot where the coffin had been buried during the day.
Many people were gathered nearby, whispering and discussing.
"Louis."
Peter Patrick walked forward and greeted his cousin, who had a dazed expression.
Louis heard the voice and quickly came forward.
Two Police officers were accompanying him.
Peter Patrick asked his cousin, "Louis, what happened?"
"It's little Terry, his body is missing."
Louis said something that made Peter Patrick frown.
He held an umbrella and walked to the grave, finding that the grave had been dug open and the body inside had vanished!
"Did someone steal the body?"
"That possibility cannot be ruled out."
A White Police officer, whom Peter Patrick found somewhat familiar, stepped forward and said.
The other man was well-built and had sharp eyes.
"We meet again, Mr. Patrick. So many years have passed, and you seem not to have changed at all."
"You are…"
Peter Patrick looked at him in surprise, "You are Officer Lyne?"
The other man was Lyne Schneider, who had been in charge of investigating the Walmart shooting incident six years ago, and also the officer who had interrogated him.
"Yes, I didn't expect Mr. Patrick to still remember me."
Lyne came up and shook his hand, "Sorry to bother you, but since you were one of the four people responsible for carrying the coffin for burial, we wanted to ask you about the situation."