Watching the funeral prayer made me truly realize that we had lost Hoca Efendi. I felt deeply saddened when I first heard the news, but not for his departure; rather, I mourned out of selfishness for ourselves and humanity. In a way, Hoca Efendi had found relief; he had ended his suffering and no longer needed to worry about the words spoken after him. He escaped his own pain, leaving us with ours. I wondered how a funeral for someone who had touched millions of hearts would look. For Hoca Efendi, it was like a wedding; he had reunited with his dearest. Yet, I found myself being selfish again, questioning who we really are. I pondered who would pray for us when we pass. Once more, I envied Hoca Efendi. I looked at the community he left behind and felt proud and happy. We often ask where this service is; that day, I truly witnessed it. So much suffering had been endured, so many wounds had been healed. Did it all just vanish? I then asked myself: Isn’t this what life is about? How many will pray for us when we’re gone? Again, I found myself grieving for us.