100 Days

It was difficult to hold back the tears. After all this time, after all the exciting and eventful days since February, I was kneeling before dad again. The scent of incense filled the air, together with the hummed chanting of a Buddhist prayer. It was so very still in the temple, while outside the winds howled and seas waved to welcome the oncoming storm brewing in the Pacific.

Earlier this morning I had another intense dream that left me emotionally drained. In the dream I saw a Formosan Mountain Dog, which lay on the ground, struggling for life, its chest heaving as it tried to catch a few last breaths. Immediately I was overwhelmed, and I could feel my eyes bulge and nose start to water from the strong sympathy I felt for the dying creature. Its fur was so soft, such a warming kind of brown, and its eyes so powerful, yet a soothing type of black. Coincidentally, the other day I saw a similar kind of dog, which came up to me and we bonded almost instantly.

Back at the temple, we commemorated 100 Days since dad's death. My mum and I had prepared 12 dishes of food, rice and soup, and offered it before dad. As tradition dictates, the 100th day is an important event, and should be celebrated grandiosely with an elaborate feast and offerings. We bought stacks of paper money, and 'treasure chests' filled with (imitation) gold, clothes, shoes, cash and jewelries that we burned so that dad could use it in the Underworld. On the boxes of offerings we had to write correct address and name, so that it is delivered correctly to dad. A fascinating ritual that has been passed down throughout the millennia, and that is still so much more alive in Taiwanese society than anywhere else in the world. It was a lot of paper, and a lot of smoke and pollution. I dryly commented that perhaps it might have been much easier to just offer a credit card to dad, perhaps a Visa, since it is accepted almost everywhere.

I told dad about the things that have been happening, and that are still to happen... the success of my work, the congratulations, praise and standing ovation I received from some 200 people... the excitement and fun I had on my travels to Israel and elsewhere... the scholarship I received for the summer course in Spain starting end of June... the fellowship from Boeing I received that will realise my dream of studying in Canada... Will he be proud of me, I wondered... Will he also bask in my joy and glory, as I move on and forward with my life, and seem to be enjoying one spell of good luck after another? Thinking of that, I felt greatly saddened. But somewhere deep within, I also felt so grateful to my dad, because somehow he seems to be helping me and guiding me, even though he is no longer there with me.

It was this thought, one that I have in those moments of sadness and times of pride, that continue to accompany as I go on.