Funerals

It has been a long time since I attended a funeral. The last one I remembered which I attended was that of my aunt, who passed away in an accident about 20 years ago. I still miss her. She was an aunt who baked cookies every weekend. She baked delicious fruit cakes too! 

Then two months ago, the mother of my friend passed on. Two days later, another aunt of mine passed away. She was the wife of my uncle, the eldest son of my grandfather. It came as quite a shock. Just two weeks prior to her passing, we had dinner together and she was giving me advice on marriage and dating. I was in shock. 

And so, I attended her funeral. Partly because I hadn't attended a funeral in two decades. At the funeral parlour, there were monks praying and chanting. My cousins folded papers into shapes which resembled money in the olden days. We watched paper cars and houses burning. Then, on the last day, they had a coffin closing ceremony. We circled the coffin three times, as a way of bidding last farewell to the deceased. 

At first, I was emotionless. Watching the funeral rites like a passer-by. But as we circled the coffin, and watch the men sealing it with cello-tapes, and watching the coffin lid being compressed together, tighter and tighter with each layer of tape, I couldn't help thinking that I won't be able to see this aunt anymore. This was really the last time, ever! For real! 

Tonnes of questions flooded my mind at this point. Has she lived her life as she would have liked, as she imagined? Was she satisfied with her life? Could she say that she had lived her life to the fullest? 

As she was the mother of two daughters, I wondered how would I feel if the same happened to me. I would never, ever see my mum again. I felt sad. So, so, sad. And I cried, for the loss of my friend's mother, his one and only friend and closest-kin who ever knew him from head to toe, in and out; I cried for my cousin's loss, and her relief from her duties of caring for her sick mum; I cried for my future loss; I cried at the idea of never seeing my mum again. 

And you bet, I cried like there was no tomorrow. All relatives who attended thought that I must have been very close to this aunt. 

Or that it was the very first funeral which I attended. My uncle consoled me. "Jean, the first cut is always the deepest. But as you go through life, the more cuts you experience, the pain that you suffer will be less. It's just like the sting of an ant. The first time it bit you, you cried too! The second time, you probably winced. The third time, you just brushed the ant off. The fourth time, you just let it bite you 'til it got fulfilled. Life is such. This, is life." 

My mum, who knows me only too well, only had this too say, "Jean! Were you crying for yourself? For me? or for the aunt or for your cousins and uncle? or for your friend?"

It is hard to articulate my emotions. I have learnt to suppress it since I became a sojourner. I suddenly realize that I am not good at expressing myself. While I am in tune with my emotions, I do not feel a need to give every emotion of mine a name or a definition. I just cry when I want to, without ever really knowing why. 

Does it matter, why I cried? 

Funerals are a sad affair. It serves as a stark reminder that nothing in life is permanent. We are only here temporarily. It doesn't matter how we die. The fact is, we will all die. 

The question is: Have we made our life count? 

I wish I could answer that with confidence. At the end of my life, I want to be able to say that I have lived a life without any regrets. I have taken care of my family and friends and all the people around me. I have loved them with every ounce of love that I have, according to my ability, talents and resources. I believe I have inspired them in every way to pass it forward and to believe that God is alive in our hearts, in our souls and in our minds. That He is the reason that we live, and He is the source of our blessings. And our spirits will definitely live on, even if our physical bodies have decayed. 

Life is short. Cherish it. Every single moment and minute of it. Do not let it go to waste. 

Perhaps, at my tombstone, the inscription on my epitaph would be as such: 

 "Over-thinking kills. 

Stop analyzing. 

Step out.

Start living. 

Appreciate all the bitter-sweet moments in your life. 

Right here, Right now, 

This, is life. 

Make it count."

Perhaps, I shouldn't view death so pessimistically. After all, if every beginning is an end, and every end is a new beginning, Martin Luther King Jr. 's epitaph sums it all up quite aptly:

"Free at Last, Free at Last

Thank God Almighty

I'm Free at Last."

(https://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/epitaphs.html)

With this, I bid adieu to my online blogging life and resolve to start living life anew.

I will live in the moment from now on. 5% in the past, 85% in the present, and 10% in the future.

May God be with me in all my present and future actions. 

May He continue to be my inspiration and my intercessor.

 May He be with me in all that I do, 

And all that I ever hope and aspire to achieve.  

In Jesus' most precious name I pray, 

Amen.