I went into the store and was embarrassed to ask for what I wanted. "A pack of Marlboro Light..."
I was embarrassed to be associated with the terrible stigma (at least according to me...) of "smoker". I actually wanted to tell the convenience store kid "It's not for me!" But probably the guy will think of me strange. Wouldn't you when someone comes to buy a pack of cigarettes at eleven in the evening and say it's not for him?
It really wasn't for me, but for my ancestors and for my dad. In around two weeks is Tombsweeping Festival, the day when we commemorate the deceased (there are a number of these days throughout the lunar calendar...). As we want to beat the crowds (it gets really crazy and crowded...), I asked my sister-in-law to come up with my nephew, and tomorrow we'll go to dad's resting place early in the morning. My aunt helped to buy a lot of prepared dishes, so all I have to do is cook some rice and pack everything in the morning, and I'd be ready to leave.
Besides the packet of cigarettes (really, not for me!!), I included a letter I handwrote. A letter to my ancestors and dad asking for their forgiveness that mum cannot be there again (she could not be there on Lunar New Year's Eve, because she just left the hospital) as she is now in hospital again. I'm sure they would not mind, but still I wanted to write to them and tell them that from now on, mum probably cannot prepare elaborate feasts and offerings on special occasions. She is simply too frail and too ill to get up and have to cook and travel an hour and a half away and perform a whole ceremony of offerings. In my letter, I wrote as long as I live, I will take over the task of making offerings, and I promise to do that at least twice a year, wherever I may be. (In fact, I have been doing that for the last two years, so I hope my ancestors will be used to my cooking!)
In my letter I also asked for the ancestors' protection, something I will again pray for tomorrow when I am standing before the ancestral plaque. "Take care of mum, may her remaining days be happy and free from bodily and mental pains... And if she should go, dad please guide her and allow her to steadily, steadily leave this world..."
How desperate I have become... But at a time when there is nothing else to cling onto, when all hope and prayer to some supreme force in the universe seem senseless, traditions and prayers to those long gone are all I have.
Showing posts with label ancestors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ancestors. Show all posts
22 March 2012
21 January 2012
Visiting dad
Little Jacob reached put his arm to touch dad. His feet kicked and his arm waved about. Something made him smile and giggle. Moments before he was crying still.
"Say 'grandpa'! Say "Grandpa, I'm here to see you!" " brother said, as he held my nephew in his arms and leaned in close to the box where dad's bones are kept. "Knock, Jacob! Anyone home?" That made me smile, though my eyes clung onto the tears that were building up from the touching moments earlier.
I led my sister-in-law, brother and nephew to the location of dad's remains. Two hands placed before my chest, I humbly bowed.
"Dad, we've returned to see you again, I hope you have been well these days..."
I stood to the side and let them "speak" to dad. I watched In silence as my eyes became moist.
Dad, son, grandson... United for the first time. Three generations together at one moment in time, though dad has already gone and left us. In a way he is still with us, I know that, i believe that. His smile adorns a portrait on the living room wall. His things can still be found in the drawers and cupboards.
He will never be able to hold his grandchild in his arms, he will never have the blessed gift of feeling his grandxhild's warm cheeks... But I know dad will watch over this baby boy, my ancestors will protect this little baby boy from harm. For he is our future, and for now, the one person who is giving this family so much hope and so much to smile and laugh about. Much needed hopes and smiles.
"Dad, mum could not be here with us today, because she's just come out of the hospital... Please, please bless her, protect her health and wellbeing, as she is about to undergo yet another treatment..."
Images of the past three weeks came to mind. How I rushed home so quickly... How mum lay there groaning in pain or so many days and nights... How I trembled as i signed the very form to proceed with treatment on mum's behalf... How yesterday the doctor told us that the cancer has spread to other places, and each treatment we do now is just to keep things in check... Dad of course knows all this. I do not doubt he was ever absent from the dramatic events of the last three weeks. I thanked him, strange as it may be at that moment. For without him, without everything he left behind, mum probably could not receive the kind of treatment and enjoy the health supplements to keep her going, keep her going on and on...
Snapshots of my letter and the words I wrote to dad came to my mind. The agony, frustrations, the emotions that have yet to find a real outlet came out again in the form of tears. I turned away. My nephew giggled and laughed, my brother and sister-in-law played with him before dad's remains. What a scenery, what a beautiful, touching moment... I felt so cold before, but standing there I felt warm and reassured again.
We offered food to the ancestors and dad, something I have been doing at big festivals throughout the year. My sister-in-law prepared much of the food, and she was up pretty early to cook and pack. I was glad to see she is getting into this, and more naturally becoming part of the family by helping us worship the ancestors. My nephew looked at us with big curious eyes, and seemed to be attracted to the little wooden memorial plaque that bears our family name.
I took a moment to be alone with dad. I leaned in and with my forehead touched the door to the box that held his remains.
"May you be well, may you be happy... May you bless this family, take good care of the little boy..." I promised dad I will do everything I can to help my nephew grow up and get the best in life. For he is a continuation of us all, and dad would have wanted the very best for his grandchild too.
With closed eyes, eyes that barricaded the tears, I kissed dad's box. "Farewell, dad... I will come see you whenever I am back. Please give me strength and calm to face the days ahead... Take good care, dad..."
The car headed down the mountain, the mountain half hidden in a beautiful veil of fog. In the distance, offshore islands floated on the vast Pacific Ocean. This scenery, this view I have seen so many times before, but every time it captures me, reassures me, soothes my mind...
"Farewell, my dear dad..."
"Say 'grandpa'! Say "Grandpa, I'm here to see you!" " brother said, as he held my nephew in his arms and leaned in close to the box where dad's bones are kept. "Knock, Jacob! Anyone home?" That made me smile, though my eyes clung onto the tears that were building up from the touching moments earlier.
I led my sister-in-law, brother and nephew to the location of dad's remains. Two hands placed before my chest, I humbly bowed.
"Dad, we've returned to see you again, I hope you have been well these days..."
I stood to the side and let them "speak" to dad. I watched In silence as my eyes became moist.
Dad, son, grandson... United for the first time. Three generations together at one moment in time, though dad has already gone and left us. In a way he is still with us, I know that, i believe that. His smile adorns a portrait on the living room wall. His things can still be found in the drawers and cupboards.
He will never be able to hold his grandchild in his arms, he will never have the blessed gift of feeling his grandxhild's warm cheeks... But I know dad will watch over this baby boy, my ancestors will protect this little baby boy from harm. For he is our future, and for now, the one person who is giving this family so much hope and so much to smile and laugh about. Much needed hopes and smiles.
"Dad, mum could not be here with us today, because she's just come out of the hospital... Please, please bless her, protect her health and wellbeing, as she is about to undergo yet another treatment..."
Images of the past three weeks came to mind. How I rushed home so quickly... How mum lay there groaning in pain or so many days and nights... How I trembled as i signed the very form to proceed with treatment on mum's behalf... How yesterday the doctor told us that the cancer has spread to other places, and each treatment we do now is just to keep things in check... Dad of course knows all this. I do not doubt he was ever absent from the dramatic events of the last three weeks. I thanked him, strange as it may be at that moment. For without him, without everything he left behind, mum probably could not receive the kind of treatment and enjoy the health supplements to keep her going, keep her going on and on...
Snapshots of my letter and the words I wrote to dad came to my mind. The agony, frustrations, the emotions that have yet to find a real outlet came out again in the form of tears. I turned away. My nephew giggled and laughed, my brother and sister-in-law played with him before dad's remains. What a scenery, what a beautiful, touching moment... I felt so cold before, but standing there I felt warm and reassured again.
We offered food to the ancestors and dad, something I have been doing at big festivals throughout the year. My sister-in-law prepared much of the food, and she was up pretty early to cook and pack. I was glad to see she is getting into this, and more naturally becoming part of the family by helping us worship the ancestors. My nephew looked at us with big curious eyes, and seemed to be attracted to the little wooden memorial plaque that bears our family name.
I took a moment to be alone with dad. I leaned in and with my forehead touched the door to the box that held his remains.
"May you be well, may you be happy... May you bless this family, take good care of the little boy..." I promised dad I will do everything I can to help my nephew grow up and get the best in life. For he is a continuation of us all, and dad would have wanted the very best for his grandchild too.
With closed eyes, eyes that barricaded the tears, I kissed dad's box. "Farewell, dad... I will come see you whenever I am back. Please give me strength and calm to face the days ahead... Take good care, dad..."
The car headed down the mountain, the mountain half hidden in a beautiful veil of fog. In the distance, offshore islands floated on the vast Pacific Ocean. This scenery, this view I have seen so many times before, but every time it captures me, reassures me, soothes my mind...
"Farewell, my dear dad..."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)