I began crying almost as soon as I saw the sea. For four years, the view of the vast open Pacific was associated with the view dad would 'see' from his final resting place. After today's events, mum would share the same view...
Mum 'moved' into her final resting place today. We prepared some of her favourite foods and drinks and after a quick and solemn ceremony at the temple, we brought her remains up to the sixth floor. It's the VIP section, a beautifully decorated and bright section of the temple where urns can be kept behind a 'deposit-box' like space with a transparent glass cover. The urn is placed all the way at the back, whereas in front is a little space containing the statue of a Buddha, and room to place some personal items.
We picked out two pictures of mum, both of which were of her smiling dazzlingly. One is her in southern France, about to enter a fancy restaurant I believe. It shot that was captured captured the moment a cat jumped onto her shoulders. She bent over and laughed from the sudden surprise of it all. Brother took this picture. The other picture is of mum on a train in Switzerland. We were going somewhere together, on perhaps our fifth trip to Switzerland together. She looked outside the window and had a beautiful smile-- a smile showing quiet contentment and a certain gentleness. I took this picture. Inside her new 'home', right next to her urn, we placed her glasses and a pair of her sunglasses. "She would need these if she were to go traveling," brother said. Indeed in various pictures of her, she is seen with her darkened lenses against the brightness of a sunny day. We placed her wallet inside too, with the remaining NT$1100 and some spare coins she had in her wallet the day she left the hospital. We took out her cards, namely her national ID card and national health insurance card. We would like to keep those, for memory's sake. But we placed in her wallet a public transport travel card. "In case she needs it to get from place to place," brother joked.
Just before heading to the temple with mum's remains, I picked up two more things that eventually decorated her new 'home'. A wooden tulip, a symbol of the Netherlands where she lived for so many years and where my brother and his family lives, and a gold-plated maple leaf, a symbol of where I live and where she had fond, fond memories of her last trip abroad. These momentos would remain with her forever. These moments would remind us of who mum was, and where she made and shared with us beautiful, beautiful memories.
As the left the temple, I looked back at it. I cried. I could not control my tears or my thoughts. Before, it was just my dad, but from now on, both my parents are resting there. The depth of loss and pain dawned on me, clearer and more painfully than ever before. For several moments, I could not help but shed such sadness and tears. I pressed my head against the car window and tried to get ahold of myself, tried to tame my emotions. But the pain was tearing my heart apart.
"Farewell, mum..." I thought inside my head, "Please take good care of yourself... I will do the same..." Or at least, I will try to do the same. "I will be strong, so you don't have to worry about me..." My face contorted in spite, and my lips quivered from the pain. My ex saw that, and extended his hand to comfort me. But the pain is deep, and the pain is so deeply personal.
I grabbed the heart-shaped pillow that was part of my Mother's Day gift to her, my last Mother's Day gift to her. The heart stayed with her at the hospice till the very end. The bright red heart, and two stuffed animals, were there at the hospice with her, watching over her. The animals attended the funeral too, and got front row seats. They accompanied mum on the final stage of her journey, and also came along to bid her a final farewell. I held onto the heart-shaped pillow tightly, pretended it was my mother's warm body I was holding.
I closed my eyes, tried to shut away the loss and pain. Sleep drowned it all, drowned out the emotions and pain. I was woken up half an hour later or so to a calming, beautiful sunset. Golden and orange rays pierced the sky and dyed the inside of the minivan in a soft and soothing tone as the sun slowly set behind mountains surrounding Taipei. Gone were the tears, and the rain, from earlier in the day.
In Taiwan, a sudden dramatic spell of rain followed by a brightening of the sky is an auspicious omen. It is cause for rejoicing, and on the day when we bid farewell to mum, it is cause to find comfort in the fact that the heavens watching over her, and that she will have a steady onward journey to the world hereafter.
"Farewell, mama... farewell, and walk steadily onward..."
Mum 'moved' into her final resting place today. We prepared some of her favourite foods and drinks and after a quick and solemn ceremony at the temple, we brought her remains up to the sixth floor. It's the VIP section, a beautifully decorated and bright section of the temple where urns can be kept behind a 'deposit-box' like space with a transparent glass cover. The urn is placed all the way at the back, whereas in front is a little space containing the statue of a Buddha, and room to place some personal items.
We picked out two pictures of mum, both of which were of her smiling dazzlingly. One is her in southern France, about to enter a fancy restaurant I believe. It shot that was captured captured the moment a cat jumped onto her shoulders. She bent over and laughed from the sudden surprise of it all. Brother took this picture. The other picture is of mum on a train in Switzerland. We were going somewhere together, on perhaps our fifth trip to Switzerland together. She looked outside the window and had a beautiful smile-- a smile showing quiet contentment and a certain gentleness. I took this picture. Inside her new 'home', right next to her urn, we placed her glasses and a pair of her sunglasses. "She would need these if she were to go traveling," brother said. Indeed in various pictures of her, she is seen with her darkened lenses against the brightness of a sunny day. We placed her wallet inside too, with the remaining NT$1100 and some spare coins she had in her wallet the day she left the hospital. We took out her cards, namely her national ID card and national health insurance card. We would like to keep those, for memory's sake. But we placed in her wallet a public transport travel card. "In case she needs it to get from place to place," brother joked.
Just before heading to the temple with mum's remains, I picked up two more things that eventually decorated her new 'home'. A wooden tulip, a symbol of the Netherlands where she lived for so many years and where my brother and his family lives, and a gold-plated maple leaf, a symbol of where I live and where she had fond, fond memories of her last trip abroad. These momentos would remain with her forever. These moments would remind us of who mum was, and where she made and shared with us beautiful, beautiful memories.
As the left the temple, I looked back at it. I cried. I could not control my tears or my thoughts. Before, it was just my dad, but from now on, both my parents are resting there. The depth of loss and pain dawned on me, clearer and more painfully than ever before. For several moments, I could not help but shed such sadness and tears. I pressed my head against the car window and tried to get ahold of myself, tried to tame my emotions. But the pain was tearing my heart apart.
"Farewell, mum..." I thought inside my head, "Please take good care of yourself... I will do the same..." Or at least, I will try to do the same. "I will be strong, so you don't have to worry about me..." My face contorted in spite, and my lips quivered from the pain. My ex saw that, and extended his hand to comfort me. But the pain is deep, and the pain is so deeply personal.
I grabbed the heart-shaped pillow that was part of my Mother's Day gift to her, my last Mother's Day gift to her. The heart stayed with her at the hospice till the very end. The bright red heart, and two stuffed animals, were there at the hospice with her, watching over her. The animals attended the funeral too, and got front row seats. They accompanied mum on the final stage of her journey, and also came along to bid her a final farewell. I held onto the heart-shaped pillow tightly, pretended it was my mother's warm body I was holding.
I closed my eyes, tried to shut away the loss and pain. Sleep drowned it all, drowned out the emotions and pain. I was woken up half an hour later or so to a calming, beautiful sunset. Golden and orange rays pierced the sky and dyed the inside of the minivan in a soft and soothing tone as the sun slowly set behind mountains surrounding Taipei. Gone were the tears, and the rain, from earlier in the day.
In Taiwan, a sudden dramatic spell of rain followed by a brightening of the sky is an auspicious omen. It is cause for rejoicing, and on the day when we bid farewell to mum, it is cause to find comfort in the fact that the heavens watching over her, and that she will have a steady onward journey to the world hereafter.
"Farewell, mama... farewell, and walk steadily onward..."
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