"Now that your friends are gone, you have to be strong..." my brother said to me before heading to his room. I was surprised by the comment. But then again, death brings people together, death brings out the humanness and unexpressed words in people. Death cements love in a whole new way and at a whole different level.
Yes, after my ex left, another dear friend who came to visit for a couple of days, left this afternoon. And after a week of being surrounded by people, after a hectic week of funeral arrangements and rituals, it has suddenly become so quiet. I knew this was coming. I knew after being surrounded by visitors, mourners and friends, there would be a moment of quiet. Sad quietness. Lonely quietness. Quietness that eats the heart. Quietness that before would occasionally be broken by mum calling my name or her moving about in the kitchen or in her bedroom...
We spent the evening watching a movie I picked up the other day on the recommendation of a friend of mine. "Seven Days in Heaven" it's called, a Taiwanese black comedy that aims to portray and mock a lot of the local rituals surrounding death in the family. My friend told me it would be a cartharsis and good way to begin purging our emotions after two emotionally charged two weeks from the moment mum passed away and to bidding farewell to mum just two days ago.
It was, and at bits made me smile at the ridiculousness of a lot of rituals, and made me glad that our own funeral was less complicated and less regimented, and that we were not completely bound to the pressures of following traditions and the word of the elders in our family.
Even so, the final scene moved me so, and gnawed at the fears and pain deep inside. You see the daughter, who throughout has been so brave and so strong, so stoic and kept her sanity in the face of insanely long and at times absurd rituals, break down. She breaks down because for a split second or so, a memory, a thought of her late dad crossed her mind. But that split second was good enough to create an outpouring of tears for an hour and a half.
That could be me.
That could be me at any point, at any place.
Yes, after my ex left, another dear friend who came to visit for a couple of days, left this afternoon. And after a week of being surrounded by people, after a hectic week of funeral arrangements and rituals, it has suddenly become so quiet. I knew this was coming. I knew after being surrounded by visitors, mourners and friends, there would be a moment of quiet. Sad quietness. Lonely quietness. Quietness that eats the heart. Quietness that before would occasionally be broken by mum calling my name or her moving about in the kitchen or in her bedroom...
We spent the evening watching a movie I picked up the other day on the recommendation of a friend of mine. "Seven Days in Heaven" it's called, a Taiwanese black comedy that aims to portray and mock a lot of the local rituals surrounding death in the family. My friend told me it would be a cartharsis and good way to begin purging our emotions after two emotionally charged two weeks from the moment mum passed away and to bidding farewell to mum just two days ago.
It was, and at bits made me smile at the ridiculousness of a lot of rituals, and made me glad that our own funeral was less complicated and less regimented, and that we were not completely bound to the pressures of following traditions and the word of the elders in our family.
Even so, the final scene moved me so, and gnawed at the fears and pain deep inside. You see the daughter, who throughout has been so brave and so strong, so stoic and kept her sanity in the face of insanely long and at times absurd rituals, break down. She breaks down because for a split second or so, a memory, a thought of her late dad crossed her mind. But that split second was good enough to create an outpouring of tears for an hour and a half.
That could be me.
That could be me at any point, at any place.
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