He came to the cemetery in a wheelchair, a blue blanket wrapped around his legs, an expression of deep anguish written across his face.
A 13-year-old whose pain must be almost too much to bear.
Zaid Mustafa was in the Al-Noor mosque last Friday with his father, Khalid, and older brother Hamza.
They died there during Friday prayers, murdered by a suspected white supremacist who targeted them because of their faith.
Hamza and the boys' 44-year-old father were the first of the 50 victims to be buried.
Despite the injuries to his wrists, young Zaid shook hands with many of the people who came to pay their respects to his family.
He is injured but alive — a fact the young teenager is struggling to accept.
A guest at the funeral said that during the service, Zaid directly addressed his father and brother, saying he didn't want to be left alone.
Family had not even been in NZ for a year
The Mustafa family came as refugees from Syria to New Zealand, a place they should have been safe.
The family had not even been here for a year when they became the victims of what Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern has described as one of New Zealand's darkest days.
Throughout the morning a steady stream of mourners arrived at the Memorial Park Cemetery in Linwood.
It is the same suburb that is home to the second mosque targeted by the alleged attacker, Australian Brenton Tarrant.
The crowd swelled to several hundred, the women segregated in a fenced-off area of the graveyard.
Some talked among themselves, some sat in silent contemplation.
The large group fell silent as an announcer told them over a PA system that the bodies had left the funeral home.
In a moving sign of respect, two armed police officers standing guard at the cemetery's gate took off their hats and bowed their heads as a white van carrying father and son drove through.
'All about the families'
The crowd had been strictly instructed not to take any photos or videos of the event as the media gathered across the road could record the event for them.
"This is all about the families," announced the organiser, who spoke in a mix of Arabic and English.
Prayers were said not in a mosque, but under a marquee — a sign that this was no normal burial.
There was also an announcement about emergency evacuation procedures, a reminder perhaps of the extraordinary circumstances that this country finds itself in.
After prayers, the bodies, shrouded and placed in simple open wooden caskets, were carried, held aloft, to the burial site.
When they were laid to rest, men filed past to pay their last respects to a Syrian man and his boy who left war behind, only to meet this terrible fate.
And then it was all over and the crowd slowly dispersed, knowing full well many of them will be back here again soon to perform this important, sad ritual.
Almost as soon as the cemetery fell quiet again, local authorities confirmed there would be more burials.
