Wintering

Eric committed suicide in his early 30's, but by then he had already been dead for long. Now he sits at his funeral, watches his coffin slipping into the furnace, observes the guests. There aren't many: His mother did come, of course, and her new husband; his sister; his ex-wife; Tomas, a friend from his school days. They all search for explanations for Eric's suicide. He always was too sensitive, ended up living like an ascetic, so far removed from the world that his death remained undiscovered for three weeks. After the service, they helplessly gather in the mother's apartment and are surprised to find the door open – Eric literally came before them. They sense that something is not right, and they try unsuccesfully to distract themselves from Eric's presence, with talk about the weather or the last vacation. Casually, he puts an old photo album on the table, which leads them back to him. Guilty feelings are awakened, but Eric is not blaming anybody. Almost comforting, he says without being heard, that his life had simply reached a final point. The others realize more and more, how little they knew of him, and mostly, how they are strangers to themselves, eventually.