Ride home

After seeing Carmen, we sat down together with the family and some of my brother's friends who knew her. It was a quiet dinner, Indonesian food, and at various points people didn't really know what to say, so there was an awkward silence that hung around and returned to the room. And I for one was not comfortable enough to start talking about random things in a room full of strangers. Some people asked me about my studies and life in Canada, and I answered briefly and quietly, not wanting to distract from the real reason we were all gathered there.

Carmen's daughter sat directly opposite me, smiling weakly when it was necessary. Perhaps I was imagining it, but it was as if I could feel her pain behind those smiles. I wanted to speak to her in person away from all these people, but there was never the chance. I did give her a big, long hug when I saw her and when I left. Perhaps through my embrace, through my gentle pats on her back, she understood or could feel that I can imagine what she is going through. "At least you got to see her and say goodbye", she said to me at one point. I agreed, and when we said goodbye it seemed like a flood of tears were about to burst through her eyes...

Brother and I walked slowly to the car, perhaps both of us reflecting on the night that had just passed us by. Perhaps both feeling lost as what to feel, perhaps unsure how to make sense of it all or put words to our lips. Eventually he asked me how it was. "Alright," I said, "It's only so much..."

Maybe those were unfeeling words, but at that point I really did not feel particular sadness or hurt. Carmen had gone, her remains lie in the bed she lay in for the past week or so, where she had struggled with life and death, but as always the latter won. It is only so much...

The car rode silently across town, and brother wanted to go somewhere, somewhere to freshen the mind, but was not sure where at that time of night. "We are growing up," he said, as gradually we will have to face more and more these kinds of occurrences. Friends, family, they will all slowly go as we age, he said, and stopped short right there.

Perhaps I was one step ahead, but perhaps at the end of that sentence was something that is all too raw and sensitive to both of us.

Friends, family will all pass gradually.

As will our mum.