A Simple Life, A Profound Goodbye — A Farewell in Words and Pictures

A deeply personal reflection on the quiet strength of love, the weight of loss, and the enduring legacy of an ordinary yet extraordinary life.

Feb 11, 2025

The Man Behind the Funeral

As the dark brown wooden coffin, draped in the Croatian flag, lay at the center of the ceremony, my thoughts drifted to him. He was my wife’s father — a man born and raised in a village. Though he later moved to the city, the village never left him. He loved working the land, planting fruits and vegetables, making wine, and socializing with fellow villagers. He didn’t have much formal education and made his living as a house painter.

The Rhythm of His World

He was traditional and conservative, often rigid in his views. Arguing with him was pointless because he never changed his opinions — just as I rarely changed mine. At times, our worldviews clashed like waves crashing against cliffs.

Some of his habits used to puzzle me. For instance, he obsessively consumed news multiple times a day, often alongside Turkish and local soap operas, distracting himself from daily reality. I often wondered how he could live like that. But then I asked myself — who am I to judge?

Everyone has the right to shape their own reality in the way that makes the most sense to them. That was his reality, his rhythm, his worldview — from which my own life might have seemed just as meaningless. Over time I came to see that behind his stubbornness was a certain consistency, a clarity of purpose that I often struggled to grasp.

The cross in darkness — the final refuge.

Despite spending hours watching news and soap operas, he was never idle. When he wasn’t in front of the TV, he was always working — fixing, planting, harvesting. It was as if his mind needed distraction, but his hands needed purpose.

His dedication to work often made me feel guilty because I was the complete opposite. Instead of helping out, I would often choose to read a book, play the guitar, or simply rest after lunch. I know that wasn’t the most polite thing to do, but often, I couldn’t force myself to pretend and join in. Still, he never held it against me — at least, not out loud.

Measured by Kindness, Not Success

Overall, he was an incredibly hardworking man. Long vacations were unbearable for him; after just two weeks, he would be itching to return home or to his cottage to fix something. He was the embodiment of a hardworking farmer — one who never truly grasped the concept of “real vacation.”

But what truly set him apart and what I will remember most about him — was his character. Whenever someone visited his home, they felt genuinely welcome. He had an innate ability to leave a positive impact on people — not out of insecurity or a need for validation, but out of pure kindness, genuine interest in others, and an eagerness to help whenever he could. Because of that, he left a lasting impression on everyone he met.

Unfortunately, he was diagnosed with a malignant illness. Although it was a less aggressive form of lung cancer, it turned out to be a death sentence. Yet, despite everything, in the ten years following his diagnosis, he continued to live authentically, spreading kindness and warmth to everyone around him.

Over time, his condition worsened, and this week, the inevitable happened — he was gone. He left behind sadness, gratitude, memories, and, most importantly, a testament to his life — his funeral.

A Goodbye That Mirrored His Life

Though I don’t usually attend formal events, including funerals, I must say this one was different. It was, quite simply, the most beautiful, dignified funeral I had ever seen. More people showed up than anyone expected, considering he was buried in a small village cemetery. As part of the immediate family, I was among those receiving condolences, which meant I shook at least two hundred hands — turning the funeral into an unexpected hand and forearm workout.

The sheer number of people was proof of how respected he was, how much of a mark he left on everyone who knew him. Besides many friends, since he was a war veteran, he was honored with military salutes, which added even more formality and dignity to the event. Three gunshots echoed through the air, their sound stretching across the horizon, where rolling hills lazily peeked out beneath a calming sky. That moment was deeply symbolic and profoundly emotional.

Soul and spirit, embodied in the bokeh of candles.

The coffin was lowered into the grave he had purchased years ago, sensing his time was near. The trumpeters played sorrowful melodies, pushing those who tried to hold back their emotions into tears. Inside the grave, everything was arranged as neatly as his home, including a crucifix and an image of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall of the tomb. Everything was just as it should be.

The funeral was a reflection of his life — simple yet dignified. In death, just as in life, Mladen continued to influence those around him, perhaps now more than ever. Anyone present could see that, beyond the sadness, everything was profoundly beautiful. If he had been there, he would have been very proud. And, in a way, he was there.

What Remains When a Man is Gone

As night fell and people went their separate ways, memories of Mladen remained with us. For those who were even slightly self-aware and introspective, this funeral carried a real treasure — a final gift that Mladen generously left us.

The way he lived, how he treated others, and the number of people who came to bid him farewell — all of it proves that a person’s worth isn’t measured by “achievements,” as society often defines them. Mladen had no grand accomplishments; he was just a simple man. But in the end, a person is valued by their actions — by how they made others feel in their presence. In that, Mladen excelled.

The question that remains for us is — how will we use our remaining days? I’m sure many of those present asked themselves the same.

Standing at Mladen’s final farewell, I felt as if I had been slapped awake — a well-deserved wake-up call. It was a profound life lesson — one where I deeply understood that in life, I don’t always need to chase heights, records, victories, external recognition, or even admiration from others.

The only admiration truly worth having comes from humility and simplicity. Many things we think we need — we actually don’t.

In the end, it’s enough to be a simple, decent human being. Isn’t that the greatest compliment one can receive — to be called a good human being? Mladen was that — a good man. A man who valued others simply for who they were, just as we all are — human.

That is something I will never forget.

Technical Details:

All photographs were taken at Zagreb’s Mirogoj Cemetery, except for the Virgin Mary statue, which I captured in the Church of St. Euphemia in Rovinj. These images do not depict the cemetery where Mladen was laid to rest — he was buried at the cemetery in Lobor. However, I chose the foggy photographs from Mirogoj to emphasize the mysticism and sacred atmosphere of the moment.

All images were shot with a Fujifilm X-H2 and a Sigma 56mm f/1.4 lens, while the Virgin Mary statue was taken with the same camera using a Fujifilm 16–80mm f/4 lens. Post-processing was done in Lightroom.

Thank you for reading my story.