The Lebanese Coffin Dance
By Myriam Dalal
Posted on
D Day
On the day of my brother’s funeral, I heard that my father danced in front of his coffin. I tried to imagine it: the steps, the location of the coffin in the parking lot of the building, the mourners watching my father, the face of my brother, that of my father, what each of them was wearing that day and whether my father’s clothes would have been undone, his shirt coming partly unbuttoned during the performance. I wasn’t allowed to come down to the building’s entrance to see my brother in the coffin. I was told it was better if I stayed there, sitting on the sofa in the foyer of our home, while the rest of the family went down to see him lying down with his eyes closed one last time.…
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