One year on
Today marks one year since Dad passed away.
Looking back, a great deal seems to have changed. I'm glad that each change has happened, but a little sad when I think of how much he's missed seeing. Maybe he's still keeping an eye on us, but we've missed sharing things with him.
My sister caught a train out to Somerville last night, and we had the whole family at home today - Mum, Bethany, Louise and I. It's been a quiet day, with lots of food involved: home-made yum cha for breakfast; pork and chicken for dinner. A day for remembering those who we have lost, and the heritage that we still carry.
I remember unwrapping plates of crackling pork and soy chicken in the Springvale Necropolis, helping Dad to lay out a meal at the graveside. We would pour glasses of tea and wine, and light incense at the grave. I would take a bundle of incense sticks around to each of the neighbouring graves - huge marble monuments, home to Chinese and Italian catholic families.
I used to leave incense in the flower-holder on each of the neighbouring graves. It seemed like the right thing to do, though many of them hadn't been tended in years. By the time I finished my walk, Dad would be starting to pack away the meal. Fruit and vegetables were left behind in the glass cabinet; tea and wine were poured into the ground. The meat would be wrapped up again and taken home, for the family to eat that night.
We didn't visit Springvale today, though I'd like to go back there soon. Mum has started a new shrine in the garden here - in the place where Dad used to burn offerings for his family. His ashes are here, and it seems better to remember him in the place he lived, rather than in a place that holds only sad memories. Today was a quiet day, but a good day for remembering.
Looking back, a great deal seems to have changed. I'm glad that each change has happened, but a little sad when I think of how much he's missed seeing. Maybe he's still keeping an eye on us, but we've missed sharing things with him.
My sister caught a train out to Somerville last night, and we had the whole family at home today - Mum, Bethany, Louise and I. It's been a quiet day, with lots of food involved: home-made yum cha for breakfast; pork and chicken for dinner. A day for remembering those who we have lost, and the heritage that we still carry.
I remember unwrapping plates of crackling pork and soy chicken in the Springvale Necropolis, helping Dad to lay out a meal at the graveside. We would pour glasses of tea and wine, and light incense at the grave. I would take a bundle of incense sticks around to each of the neighbouring graves - huge marble monuments, home to Chinese and Italian catholic families.
I used to leave incense in the flower-holder on each of the neighbouring graves. It seemed like the right thing to do, though many of them hadn't been tended in years. By the time I finished my walk, Dad would be starting to pack away the meal. Fruit and vegetables were left behind in the glass cabinet; tea and wine were poured into the ground. The meat would be wrapped up again and taken home, for the family to eat that night.
We didn't visit Springvale today, though I'd like to go back there soon. Mum has started a new shrine in the garden here - in the place where Dad used to burn offerings for his family. His ashes are here, and it seems better to remember him in the place he lived, rather than in a place that holds only sad memories. Today was a quiet day, but a good day for remembering.