Saying goodbye

Everyone will leave us.  That is just the part of life and living that we need to accept and understand.  It's still hard when it happens though.  Just before Christmas, my grandmother passed away.  She was very old and her passing was peaceful, but it doesn't make it less sad.

It had only been a few months prior that one of my uncles had passed away so I was now better versed in some of the rituals and practices for a Buddhist funeral.  Throughout the wake, a vigil was kept next to a small furnace and someone would keep continually burn the offerings of paper "money", "silver" and "gold" for her to use in the afterlife.  These aren't beliefs which I hold, so I respectfully kept them company whilst watching on.

To the side, a group of Buddhist adherents chanted as the monks went about their processions and read out prayers.  To my side, the family all sat and chatted quietly, all the while folding bags and bags worth of the "gold" and "silver" to give my grandmother the send off she deserved.  The number of mourners was far less than I had expected.  In fact, it felt quite empty compared to the funeral I had attended late last year.  Many people sadly couldn't attend as they were overseas.  Others were still concerned about the rise in local cases and didn't want to gather in larger groups.  It was sad looking around and seeing the empty seats, but there was nothing to be done about it.  

The year of coronavirus had taken a huge toll on myself and my family.  The passing of my grandmother seemed to be a fitting end to it all.  She had definitely been very lonely in the days leading up to her passing.  Many of the family had wanted to visit her more and yet at the same time, no one wanted to be an accidental carrier of a disease which would then take her in a painful and untimely manner.  It was a strange and cruel conflict that we had found ourselves in and ultimately one of the two sides had won.  

Standing in the hall where the mourners came to say their goodbyes, I felt a strange sense of distance.  I felt sad, but I didn't necessarily feel the depths of despair and grief that many of the others who attended clearly did.  I thought about whether I should have visited her more, whether I should have called more, but then I thought that was probably something that I could have always done "more" of no matter how much more I did visit her.  As the proceedings continued into the evening, an exhaustion started to creep over me.  What I did feel for certain was older, much older than I had previously felt.