death

Last night I witnessed how beautiful my mother can be - her passage basically summed up the life of my grandmother. We were always in grandma's thoughts, even though her way of expressing it inconvenienced and annoyed us often. I thought of what I would say about my own mother many years down the road and teared.

I wondered about how I'm worrying about the future instead of mourning for grandmother. Some cried while they lowered grandma into the incinerator, and knew the tears were actually mostly for my grandfather. Casually, I imagined one of us getting into an accident while we were on the way to the crematorium. What would happen then? Do the dead or dying matter more?

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It is not easy to mourn for the dead when they are right in front of us, or perhaps it is just me. All of them spoke to the cool, icy side of the glass while I stared at those features that no longer reminded me of her. I couldn't hear her voice in my head either.

We cry about change. Nothing really changed this time - I visited her the number times I normally would when I visit hong kong, and till our next visit, I will be alright about the loss.

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There's one thing though, I don't know what is wrong with me because my default mood is that of sadness.