Mid Autumn Festival

As promised, I cooked up a feast today for my ancestors. Originally, the tradition is to make offers on the fifteenth day of the ghost month, but this year, it happened to be one day before my immigration interview (15 Aug) and I was stressed and felt unprepared (and was besieged by emotional troubles...). I made some simple fruit offerings, and told my ancestors I'd "make it up to them" later.

And today is the Mid Autumn Festival, a traditional day of family reunion and get-together. Though I was drained of energy from the night earlier, on my way home, I stopped by Chinatown and picked up some groceries...

Roast duck (dad's favorite), grilled chicken (chicken being a symbol and homonym of the world "family" or "home"), and three different types of green vegetables, including chives (symbol of longevity). For my grandma, I specially bought a can of cucumber pickled in soy sauce, which she  loved to eat, especially as she often ate congee (soupy rice) due to her lack of teeth.  I made rice and turnip soup ( symbol of prosperity and good luck), and offered a variety of sweets and drinks I had in the food cabinet. And of course, no Mid Autumn Festival could be without mooncakes and pomelos, so those I also laid out on the table as part of the offerings.

As I was cooking, a package that mum had mailed to me earlier last week also arrived. I opened it, and  was immediately  touched by the little packets of dried food she had sent me, and by the delicacies she wanted me to give to my friends and colleagues. "Thank them for taking care of you," she had told me previously.  A number of what mum sent me also made it onto a separate  table of offerings.

I knelt before the table, closed my eyes and whispered in my heart... "Grandma, grandpa... dad, and all the ancestors..." I motioned to the few simple dishes I had cooked, as I promised I would. I 'invited' them to come and enjoy the food, and asked them to continue to look after and bless our family...  to watch over and take care of mum, who is all by her self and earlier this morning told me of how "quiet" this festival has been for her. I did not ask anything for myself. I shed a tear instead.

I asked the ancestors to watch over brother, his wife and the new born child. I even connected online so that I could 'show' the ancestors what the new family member, the first of the next generation, looks like. Seeing my nephew's little face, his frown and eyes somehow reminded me of dad, of dad's face, and triggered another avalanche of emotions...

I lit an incense coil, and retreated quietly to the side as my ancestors 'ate'. I thought of the people who had come before me, of dad and the memories we shared... I was not sad, but still numb from the outpouring of grief and painful memories the night before. Preparing the feast, chopping vegetables and cooking made me recover and heal somewhat, as did the classical music in the background.

As silly, as superstitious as the entire ceremony is, the cooking and offerings  made me connect once more with myself and the people who matter(ed) in my life.  And they are still in my heart, on my mind, even so many years have gone by, even if I am so far, far away from where I originally came from...