Story 13
The One in the Coffin Was…
This happened when the husband of my best friend from junior high passed away. He was only 35 years old.
My best friend and her husband were the same age. They got married when they were both 23, and right after that, her husband was diagnosed with cancer. They spent nearly 10 years together fighting the illness. So, while my best friend cried from grief, she also said she was relieved that he no longer had to suffer from the disease and could finally rest.
I knew her husband well, so I deeply understood her words. Even in the final days, I often visited their home, helping her take care of him while he was bedridden.
What I want to make clear is that I absolutely knew what her husband looked like — I had seen his face just two days before his death. There was no way I could mistake it for someone else’s.
On the day of the funeral.
I had also attended the wake the night before. Since I was close with her husband too, it was painful to see his face, so at the wake, I kept my distance from the coffin.
But when it came time to say our final goodbyes, I thought it would be wrong not to at least see his face one last time and silently thank him. Since there was still some time before the coffin would be carried out, I decided to look.
I waited until no one was standing nearby, then peered into the small window of the coffin. I expected to see her husband’s face lying peacefully inside. But what I saw was…
To be blunt, it was the face of an old man — maybe around 80 years old.
My heart skipped a beat. It was someone I had never seen before. A complete stranger, not even remotely resembling her husband.
Sure, her husband had grown gaunt, pale, and bald from the illness, looking far older than 35.
But the one in the coffin had slightly tanned skin, thin gray hair, and a face that looked rather healthy — not sunken like her husband’s. If I had to describe him, he looked like one of those cheerful old farmers you’d see driving a light truck around the countryside. That’s the kind of person lying there.
“…Huh?”
I froze in shock.
Just then, my best friend came over and also peered through the coffin window.
“He looks so peaceful, doesn’t he?” she said.
(But… that’s not him. It’s someone else.)
I couldn’t say anything. I lifted my head silently, but my friend kept gazing at the face in the coffin.
(Could it be that she doesn’t notice…?)
I stayed silent. I thought maybe it was just me, that I was imagining things, that it would be inappropriate to stir up trouble during the funeral.
So I just said, “Yes, he really does look peaceful,” and stepped back.
Later, before the coffin was taken away, I looked inside two or three more times, sometimes with other people. Each time, I still saw the same old man I didn’t know. But everyone else seemed to see him as her husband, without a hint of doubt.
In the end, the coffin left with that stranger’s face inside, and the funeral concluded.
It’s been three years since then.
I still have no idea what that was. I haven’t been able to tell anyone about it.
