First Death, First Life: Part I
Dear Grandpa,
Today was your memorial service. My very first one. The day carried on like a normal day. I got up early, took a shower, put on my new black suit, and slipped into my little black heels. When Jason and I arrived at the memorial home, I walked inside and greeted all the old faces...the faces of my parents' friends who, for over 20 years now, have watched me grow up. They all gasped and exclaimed at how much weight I had lost and they smiled at me - me, all grown up and pretty. I blushed a little and ran up to the front of the room where my mother greeted me and smiled when she saw me in my new outfit.
I admired the amazing arrangements of flowers. I wondered how difficult it must be to arrange flowers in such lovely shapes. Even the sight of your blossom urn and your picture did not phase me. Then I decided that I wanted to say something too. Mom and Dad were giving a eulogy, but I wanted you to know that I cared.
We sang and listened to the Pastor speak. Dad got up and gave a moving account of your life. Then it was my turn. (Mom said that I should speak before her since I carry your last name and she doesn't.) So I stood up behind the microphone, without any notes at all, and began to speak. At first my voice was even. I looked everyone in the eyes; those who were sleeping woke up to listen to me and those who were awake smiled back at me. In the middle of my talk I looked back at your urn in reference to you, and it was then that it hit me that this was really happening. You were really gone. My voice began to quaver and I stopped looking everyone in the eye. I ended my talk by telling everyone that I loved them and I sat down.
We ended the procession by sealing your urn into the walls - a permanent place for us to pay our respects for the rest of our lives. Everyone else was chatting, but Shiao Yi was alone and silent, staring at the space in which you'd rest forever. I wrapped my arms around her and said, "Don't worry Grandma, this isn't goodbye. You'll see him again." But she was beyond consolation. Her eyes filled with grief and tears and she whispered, "He is gone from my sight."
Oh how that broke my heart. She loves you so much, Grandpa. I'm just a baby trying to live as an adult. It is so hard for me to grasp the depth of the kind of love like the one Shiao Yi has for you. With a love like that, you will never be far from us.
So you're gone now. I have no grandpa's left. In that sense I am sad. Maybe we never spoke much. Maybe we weren't a big part of each other's lives. But your presence filled a part of my life, and even the smallest gap can seem like the largest.
Anyway, I want you to know that Dad is doing just fine. He's had a lot of time for reflection and he's coming to terms with your passing. Jen and I are also getting along just fine. It is just Shiao Yi we are all worried about. I don't blame her. How do you keep on living if a part of you has died? I suppose you just thank God for the part you have left and move on with what you have. And she will, with time. She will.
Keep a few seats warm for us in Heaven, Grandpa. The mahjong tables up there must be frickin' sweet.
Your loving grand-daughter,
Ting Ting
Today was your memorial service. My very first one. The day carried on like a normal day. I got up early, took a shower, put on my new black suit, and slipped into my little black heels. When Jason and I arrived at the memorial home, I walked inside and greeted all the old faces...the faces of my parents' friends who, for over 20 years now, have watched me grow up. They all gasped and exclaimed at how much weight I had lost and they smiled at me - me, all grown up and pretty. I blushed a little and ran up to the front of the room where my mother greeted me and smiled when she saw me in my new outfit.
I admired the amazing arrangements of flowers. I wondered how difficult it must be to arrange flowers in such lovely shapes. Even the sight of your blossom urn and your picture did not phase me. Then I decided that I wanted to say something too. Mom and Dad were giving a eulogy, but I wanted you to know that I cared.
We sang and listened to the Pastor speak. Dad got up and gave a moving account of your life. Then it was my turn. (Mom said that I should speak before her since I carry your last name and she doesn't.) So I stood up behind the microphone, without any notes at all, and began to speak. At first my voice was even. I looked everyone in the eyes; those who were sleeping woke up to listen to me and those who were awake smiled back at me. In the middle of my talk I looked back at your urn in reference to you, and it was then that it hit me that this was really happening. You were really gone. My voice began to quaver and I stopped looking everyone in the eye. I ended my talk by telling everyone that I loved them and I sat down.
We ended the procession by sealing your urn into the walls - a permanent place for us to pay our respects for the rest of our lives. Everyone else was chatting, but Shiao Yi was alone and silent, staring at the space in which you'd rest forever. I wrapped my arms around her and said, "Don't worry Grandma, this isn't goodbye. You'll see him again." But she was beyond consolation. Her eyes filled with grief and tears and she whispered, "He is gone from my sight."
Oh how that broke my heart. She loves you so much, Grandpa. I'm just a baby trying to live as an adult. It is so hard for me to grasp the depth of the kind of love like the one Shiao Yi has for you. With a love like that, you will never be far from us.
So you're gone now. I have no grandpa's left. In that sense I am sad. Maybe we never spoke much. Maybe we weren't a big part of each other's lives. But your presence filled a part of my life, and even the smallest gap can seem like the largest.
Anyway, I want you to know that Dad is doing just fine. He's had a lot of time for reflection and he's coming to terms with your passing. Jen and I are also getting along just fine. It is just Shiao Yi we are all worried about. I don't blame her. How do you keep on living if a part of you has died? I suppose you just thank God for the part you have left and move on with what you have. And she will, with time. She will.
Keep a few seats warm for us in Heaven, Grandpa. The mahjong tables up there must be frickin' sweet.
Your loving grand-daughter,
Ting Ting
posted by The mini ninja at 3:32 PM
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