Well, Happy Chinese New Year to you all dear readers (it's not Cap Go Meh just yet ;))!! Unlike last year's Chinese New Year, this year my family and I didn't celebrate the event of welcoming the New Year in Lunar Calendar (well, though I didn't celebrate anything last year because I was in Sydney by that time). Anyways, I still got hong bao. But we're not visiting relatives and friends to do 'bai nian'. This January, three days before Chinese New Year my beloved grandfather from my father passed away.
It's not the first time I lost a member of family. Four years ago I lost my grandpa from my mom to leukemia. I remember vividly how I felt back then. I was crushed. I wasn't a believer and the only thing I regretted the most was the fact that I never really tried to get to know him better. I cried the moment I heard the news over the phone. I spoke at English class about this matter and I broke down in front of my classmates. And I also wrote some pages about this in my English Journal.
When my grandpa passed away this January, it wasn't me who got the news firsthand. My sister was the one who answered the phone fifteen minutes before midnight. It was a shock to all of us. We all knew that grandpa did not have much time. But we thought he would have made it through CNY. My sister cried and it reminded me of my other grandpa who had gone first.
But this time I didn't cry. The news came through me like a wind. Well that's a bad connotation but anyway.. I didn't feel a thing. Like it wasn't real, it almost felt as a dream. But there's one thing that stuck on my mind, a sound that was saying, "My grandpa will go to Hades. How could you let this happen??" and it was on a replay. There were many times when I went to Jakarta to visit him and I saw his fragile hands lying helplessly on bed. I always wanted to talk about Jesus. But I never had the courage. I only prayed silently. Now I keep on thinking: why?
My grandpa from my mom accepted Jesus before he passed away. I'm not so sure whether he really did accept Jesus or no but I'd like to think that way. He accepted Jesus because my grandma said he would recover if he became a Christian. Even though at that time I had not been a Christian, I knew he made a right choice to become one.
I don't know why I have this feeling and I might will never find out. But I wasn't that sad when it comes to let go my grandpa from my father. I mean other than the sentence that kept on playing in my head, I feel nothing. Did it mean something? Have I been a bad granddaughter to feel that way? Maybe because he was so old, so fragile, so sick that my conscience had accepted that he's gone.
As a chinese descendant, my family follow its tradition of mourning. So my grandpa was placed in a place called 'Rumah Duka' or the house of condolence. He was put there for a while until the day of the burial. There were house, people, car, chair, etc made of paper. It has been a tradition for Chinese people (especially Buddhist) to burn those things so that the dead can enjoy those things in the next life. The idea was interesting yet creepy for me.
On the day of my grandpa's burial, a 'shifu' came and lead the whole ceremony. The shifu led us all (the family members) to go around grandpa's coffin and sang some creepy song in Hakka. He also brought the thing similar to cymbal and clasp it a few times before singing. We went around the coffin for quiet long and it got me scared. :s my mom and dad cried and I was scared!!! >< I prayed to God the whole time we did the process because I was scared he was singing some mantra. Was that normal??
Anyway I dislike that feeling. I wanted to cry, I wanted to weep, but I couldn't. And I haven't figured out why. Has God given me this feeling? Or have my heart turned wicked? :(
It's a complicated thing, human heart. You never know how it works.
Have a beautiful life in the year 2012 people! :)
May God bless you abundantly throughout the year.
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