Eaten Alive
It's been about three weeks since my granny passed on. I know, you're probably thinking, "Sorry to hear that. But I don't know you or your granny - so hell, I don't think I really care."
Relax, I blow off steam in writing that I can't blow off any other way. AKA, I'm not good at expressing my feelings with my face or by talking.
So I wrote a letter to a friend the day after I came back from Taiwan. But I wanted to store my memories somewhere other than just telling a friend. It's a shame that when I was little, Granny was the one who said to me, "One day, you will experience your first loss that you will remember. It will be hard, but probably not the hardest. And it will probably not be your last. On that day, you will realize that it will happen again and again. Be strong for your own sake." I regret not taking it seriously, because back then, her words confused me. Ever since, I never really grasped the idea. But now, she's the first to go. I want to remind myself that this will happen over and over again throughout my life. If I can make it through now, I can make it through again so I will be strong for my own sake, just as she said.
It's saddening. She's my granny and my name giver. She left our family's forgotten history with me and just another. I feel as if that burden just increased tenfold with her death.
Now here's the part of my letter that I want to remember.
____________________
"...I hope I wasn't too much of a drab today. I still can't get over my grandmother's funeral and ceremonies. It was hard. I know she's gone, since I can't feel her around anymore and nobody else has had a dream of her leaving except for me. Still, it seems almost impossible that she could have just up and left. I didn't want to believe it, and half of me still doubted her death before I went to see her a final time. Then I saw her in that cold crib down in the hospital morgue. She was so small and shrunken in that freezer. And dead.
Peaceful, but absolutely gone from her life and ours.
Everyone cried rivers, and my mother even had a nosebleed for crying so hard. But I didn't cry. Not at all. Because I couldn't. Whenever I am pushed past a certain point, I don't know how to cry anymore and I just let everything eat away at me, like I don't care at all that I'm hurting. I didn't even cry at granny's funeral. I know she wouldn't want to inconvenience us with sadness, but I believe not showing my sadness was even worse. What kind of person am I to go to a funeral of a loved one with dry eyes?
They were choosing her clothes for the funeral. Would she look prettier in white or red? What about magenta? And what about the urn? Metal or jade? When's the cremation? I hated it. I just felt contempt that they could only think about this crap. Didn't anyone besides me want her to come back, or at least to stay with her longer where she was all alone in that goddamned morgue?
I gave her my poem. I read it to the people who attended the ceremony. I burned it with her body. I placed it right on her heart. But I didn't take her hand like I always did when I was little.
God I hate myself for not being able take her hand a last time.
When they carried away her body to the black burning furnace, everyone told me to look away for it was a custom in Taiwan. (They believed that looking back would force a spirit to stay behind. I'm not a damned medium for no reason. I already knew she was gone.) But I couldn't look away and turn my back on her. I turned around and pushed away anyone who dared to touch me. And I stared as her coffin was placed into the fire and rolled into it. They yelled at me, but I didn't care. They were just stupid ants. At that moment, I could only think, 'I'll never be able able to hold her hand again and go shopping down the vendor's alley with her. Someone stop the stupid fire. I hate fire.'
And then someone grabbed my arms and pushed me out the doors.
While we waited for her ashes, everybody ate lunch. I couldn't even look at them. I kept wondering why they were even eating, happily too like it was some perverted picnic. I hated them and everything around me. When I looked out the window at all the current funerals on the cremation grounds, I saw people standing by some of the alters grabbing for the food and fruits that were piled there. I didn't realize they were spirits until I saw their hands go through, unable to even hold any food, much less eat it. Then I looked away feeling disgusted with the living since the dead were so deprived. And nobody saw, not even the monks. Everyone around me just kept on eating their lunch without a care for anyone else.
I left for the bathroom and emptied my stomach.
Then we sent granny's ashes (in the urn) to one of the mountain graves. It's a nice little building where she's shut into forever, along with my uncle (her son) who died over 30 years ago. When we came out into the rain again, that was when I fell and cut my face on a bordering rock. They just laughed, making a joke about how granny wanted me to stay with her.
There were nice times during the trip when we visited some places and went to a huge bookstore, etc. My trip wasn't without its good moments.
But when people asked how my trip was today, I could honestly answer them, "I don't know."
Sorry, I'm being kind of weird and just throwing it all out all of a sudden. But I haven't told anyone I felt yet because nobody would want to listen. If you feel grossed out, I understand. But I had to put it somewhere... I could only think of a friend to tell."
____________________
Sen
Relax, I blow off steam in writing that I can't blow off any other way. AKA, I'm not good at expressing my feelings with my face or by talking.
So I wrote a letter to a friend the day after I came back from Taiwan. But I wanted to store my memories somewhere other than just telling a friend. It's a shame that when I was little, Granny was the one who said to me, "One day, you will experience your first loss that you will remember. It will be hard, but probably not the hardest. And it will probably not be your last. On that day, you will realize that it will happen again and again. Be strong for your own sake." I regret not taking it seriously, because back then, her words confused me. Ever since, I never really grasped the idea. But now, she's the first to go. I want to remind myself that this will happen over and over again throughout my life. If I can make it through now, I can make it through again so I will be strong for my own sake, just as she said.
It's saddening. She's my granny and my name giver. She left our family's forgotten history with me and just another. I feel as if that burden just increased tenfold with her death.
Now here's the part of my letter that I want to remember.
____________________
"...I hope I wasn't too much of a drab today. I still can't get over my grandmother's funeral and ceremonies. It was hard. I know she's gone, since I can't feel her around anymore and nobody else has had a dream of her leaving except for me. Still, it seems almost impossible that she could have just up and left. I didn't want to believe it, and half of me still doubted her death before I went to see her a final time. Then I saw her in that cold crib down in the hospital morgue. She was so small and shrunken in that freezer. And dead.
Peaceful, but absolutely gone from her life and ours.
Everyone cried rivers, and my mother even had a nosebleed for crying so hard. But I didn't cry. Not at all. Because I couldn't. Whenever I am pushed past a certain point, I don't know how to cry anymore and I just let everything eat away at me, like I don't care at all that I'm hurting. I didn't even cry at granny's funeral. I know she wouldn't want to inconvenience us with sadness, but I believe not showing my sadness was even worse. What kind of person am I to go to a funeral of a loved one with dry eyes?
They were choosing her clothes for the funeral. Would she look prettier in white or red? What about magenta? And what about the urn? Metal or jade? When's the cremation? I hated it. I just felt contempt that they could only think about this crap. Didn't anyone besides me want her to come back, or at least to stay with her longer where she was all alone in that goddamned morgue?
I gave her my poem. I read it to the people who attended the ceremony. I burned it with her body. I placed it right on her heart. But I didn't take her hand like I always did when I was little.
God I hate myself for not being able take her hand a last time.
When they carried away her body to the black burning furnace, everyone told me to look away for it was a custom in Taiwan. (They believed that looking back would force a spirit to stay behind. I'm not a damned medium for no reason. I already knew she was gone.) But I couldn't look away and turn my back on her. I turned around and pushed away anyone who dared to touch me. And I stared as her coffin was placed into the fire and rolled into it. They yelled at me, but I didn't care. They were just stupid ants. At that moment, I could only think, 'I'll never be able able to hold her hand again and go shopping down the vendor's alley with her. Someone stop the stupid fire. I hate fire.'
And then someone grabbed my arms and pushed me out the doors.
While we waited for her ashes, everybody ate lunch. I couldn't even look at them. I kept wondering why they were even eating, happily too like it was some perverted picnic. I hated them and everything around me. When I looked out the window at all the current funerals on the cremation grounds, I saw people standing by some of the alters grabbing for the food and fruits that were piled there. I didn't realize they were spirits until I saw their hands go through, unable to even hold any food, much less eat it. Then I looked away feeling disgusted with the living since the dead were so deprived. And nobody saw, not even the monks. Everyone around me just kept on eating their lunch without a care for anyone else.
I left for the bathroom and emptied my stomach.
Then we sent granny's ashes (in the urn) to one of the mountain graves. It's a nice little building where she's shut into forever, along with my uncle (her son) who died over 30 years ago. When we came out into the rain again, that was when I fell and cut my face on a bordering rock. They just laughed, making a joke about how granny wanted me to stay with her.
There were nice times during the trip when we visited some places and went to a huge bookstore, etc. My trip wasn't without its good moments.
But when people asked how my trip was today, I could honestly answer them, "I don't know."
Sorry, I'm being kind of weird and just throwing it all out all of a sudden. But I haven't told anyone I felt yet because nobody would want to listen. If you feel grossed out, I understand. But I had to put it somewhere... I could only think of a friend to tell."
____________________
Sen