(It was on my Tumblr cause that was my "main blog" at the time but I think it should be posted here instead)
21 May 2011:
“无法接受”
That’s what my auntie said. My grandma passed away on Friday. In the morning of her passing, I was awaken by my home phone ringing, and, barely able to walk properly, my voice caught when my mother’s voice whispered, “Ah ma’s gone”
It’s strange how we mourn a person’s death. The emotions, the rituals, they seem strange and foreign to me. Crying and crying, every time I’ve stopped crying, I see my relatives crying and I join them again. It is completely different when you cry for a loved one’s death. The emotions are the same - sadness, grief, maybe even regret? - but it feels different. When you cry for the loss of a loved one, you will cry like a child. You will not hold up the walls you’ve put up, because the person you lost, in some way or another, was your source of strength in building these walls. She leaves, and your wall crumbles.
I didn’t think my eight-year-old cousin would understand what was going on. During prayers, he was still fooling around and disturbing his younger sister. But when we had to walk around the coffin, to say our final goodbyes before the coffin was shut, he started crying. It takes a lot for a child to understand, and to cry because of a death.. The feeling is unexplainable.
I put my hand on my grandmother’s chest as I walked to her side. I started crying, not because I was touching her for the last time, but because she still felt solid - sturdy despite her thinness, presence despite her leaving. Could it really be possible that she was gone?
It wasn’t till at night on the first day, that I decided it was okay to smile. And that was even with the cue from my auntie. Trying to teach me how to fold ingots with incense paper, when I didn’t get it right, she laughed - a full laugh - and I smiled at her.
Yesterday was the second day of the funeral, but I felt like the day of my grandmother’s passing was a much longer time ago. The first day really was a blur. Yesterday I think we more or less got the hang of it. Burning incense paper, folding ingots, talking to visitors, preparing paper plates of nuts and red threads, receiving small sums of money. It repeats throughout the day. Yesterday, or rather today, we reached home at about 2:40am. One of my post-exams to-dos was to stay out late one night. Never would I have expected staying out late because of this. I’m not berating, believe me, because I’ve heard the way some of my relatives complain about the situation. Even if you weren’t close to her, bear in mind, her life is a life nonetheless. Without her, you wouldn’t have had a husband/ wife/ son/ daughter. The least you could do is to respect what she has left behind.
Personally, I don’t have a religion. I don’t believe I need one. I neither agree nor disagree with the religious practices we are carrying out. But what I can do is respect your religion, your beliefs, and your practices. If it requires me to burn incense paper, I will. If it requires me to sing hyms, I will. If it requires me to pray, I will. It befuddles me that some adults are still sticks in the mud. Don’t you have any respect for others at all? Such that the slightest bit of inconvenience for YOU, and a whole flood of objections and criticisms fills the area. This ceremony ISN’T about you. Stop thinking about yourself. Who isn’t hungry or tired? Everyone has a part to help in the guiding of the lost person, as well as support her family. This is a given. It isn’t even called “mandatory”, because if it is human nature, it is not Compulsory, but Natural.
I was thinking back to Chinese New Year earlier in the year, and I know I’ll always remember how she’d wish us back while giving us the ang pow. (Hokkien) “xīn tèi kian kōng,” (Mandarin) “TÚ shū lì hài” My grandmother speaks little Mandarin. The word in capital letters was supposed to be 读, pronounced “DÚ”. I’ll never forget that.
Speaking of forgetting, I’m amazed at how my grandmother’s memory didn’t fail her. She remembered my sister’s birthday (a week before two days ago), and as she lay in the hospital bed, she kept wanting to give my sister and ang pow.
Up till now I haven’t fully accepted that she’s gone. A small part of me still thinks the next time we go to her house, she’ll be there to meet us and cook curry chicken for us. I can’t accept that she’s gone. People offer condolences, and say that she’s in a better place. How do you know, though? For sure she’s out of suffering medication, operations, fatigue. She’s taking a long and well-deserved rest now. A long rest.