Dreading wintry conditions, in the august days of sub-zero December, I did arrive at work on time but jaded. Taking the stairs to the third floor couldn't have been more helpful... I barely finished turbo-ing in my computer before the cleaner, who was 77, turned up with his colossal vacuum. He was also about to get on with daily business. Alongside him and about a step behind, as I looked over my shoulder, appeared the company's financial director, wife for 23 years of our Managing Director. He was my boss.

"zarE sle mn yhon beTewatu yeminCeqaCeqew", I couldn't make of her face.

She stood there for moments not exactly saying anything.

That morning, with no one else from our office in, was particularly lonely. Robin's sister, I learnt much later, had a stroke during the weekend and now couldn't speak or move. He was with her. Dr. Alex was back in London minding his university responsibilities.

Barbra slowly moved closer, looking stunned by now, and muttered "umm...hhm, Alebachew, have you seen the news?" I responded with a quick "no" and followed it by "why?" What I heard next, I could never have been prepared for, tore me apart. It ripped kfuNa through me.

She said: "Derek has passed away, h..e wa...a...s involved.....i...n a plane accident near Grimsby". I stood frozen, then not knowing where I was going I took a step outside the office and held on to the banister. Slowly, I walked down one flight of stairs and faced the door to his outer office. He was standing there, swear you me. My tears started falling. Leaning heavily on the banister I continued walking down, past the reception to the rest room where I wailed behind closed doors. Later that day, while I was sitting on my desk, I could see him standing in front of me. The feeling of his presence in the office was so intense.

nefsun ymarewna, he was passionate about his work. One of the company's flagship products, which we were in the process of releasing a new version for, had had the two of us work together longer-than-life hours in the months before. Our conversations from Friday were so vivid, his cup still on the corner of the table few steps away. ye mot Tri dissipated things quite unexpectedly. It was unreal.

12:00 p.m. same day: By now, I was the only one in within three floors manning all customer calls and having to say in-explainable things. Barbra had left to identify his body. I scampered across the net and found out that he was test flying a Jet Provost he wanted to buy for himself.

Dec 19, 2000: Dr. Alex and I drove to the funeral of a person we knew so much and so little about. Thus, in a village deep in English countryside called Barnack, after reflective hours on winding-icy roads, we arrived at a church. I was a bit unsure how Dr. Alex from Algeria, who seemed a devout Muslim, and myself for that matter, although may be for a different reason, would take the ceremony. Menged lay sinhed memot esu endemaychl, laychilm endemichl tenegagern, Eyaqwaretn. Feran, Waga Atan.

Most of the houses in the village were made of stones. I couldn't imagine myself living in such a place for any significant amount of time. Not because the houses were made of stones but for it looked secluded. Apparently, Derek, as I learnt later, had done 23 years there. He was in the RAF, I learnt, for a long time until he retired and started his company in 1989.

Every one was wearing suits or military uniforms with an assortment of medals on top of their left shirt pockets and R (talaqu "R") anks on their shoulders. There was even a guard of honour. I wasn't sure how to react walking between lines of army guards with stern faces into the church.

Inside, no one was crying, four people pulled ropes attached to bells which rang every half a minute or so. A priest was muttering words to them or may be to us too but I could only hear numbers being called 3,4,2 (pause) 5,1 (pause) and then another set of numbers.

We sat on a bench and I kept thinking Dr. Alex might just get up and run out the door. It was his first time in a church. I was not very comfortable myself because often organised religion seemed more of politics to me and I could always spot a person worthy of rewards from any religion. Meantime, I felt there is always something supernatural. A God without religious regard, one that doesn't insist people have to be ardently Orthodox, Muslim, Buddhist, Jew, Catholic etc... to be good beings. There is much to debate about religion....some of them look trivial to me.

Through the ceremony every one was asked to stand up and read along some poems/writings by people and extracts from the bible. Every one was given a pamphlet of the proceedings at the entrance. Some of the writings were agreeable although religious in nature. Dr. Alex kept looking around incessantly and asked the other people about the proceedings. It was cold and I wondered if they could hook up a fireplace in the corner of the stone church to heat it up a bit. I was most definitely the only young person (under 25) among the crowd and should I mention definitively African as well. Some were looking curiously, their eyes saying "Where has this one come from, strange?". In one pair of eyes, I could see a confused lady who thought I was his son, the result of an exotic binge out some where. He was probably a secretive man. His mother was there as well. She looked young and strong still, Derek was 51.

After the church ceremony, a reception was held at a town hall. Dr. Alex couldn't stay for the reception. Inside, people were given food and drink. Very soon people were landing wines and beer and warm discussions about errands were struck, at least it seemed so, as all across the room, the crowd got louder and drunker. I wondered if the focus of the British' relationship to death, given the circumstances, was to celebrate the work he has done despite it all. Manm alemalqesu yasdenegTal. Were they happy or were they sad? I knew no one but two people from office there and for the most part I sat and looked at every one else. You would be hard pushed to realise this was a reception after a funeral if you didn't attend the church ceremony earlier. Small pondering about the fine line between life and death and a bit of staring and smiling at other people, some nibbling on food and we were ready to leave.

How many of these a human life handles in its stretch, no one knows. That day life certainly didn't seem to be a trial and I was yet reminded that one shot in it is all we seem to get.