Dust In The Wind
I guess I must be entering that age group: more and more people around me are leaving this world. First, it was people of my parents' generation. In recent years, it has become our friends and peers. Some even just depart from the world suddenly.
Last fall, I learnt that my childhood "second mom" had died. (For full story, please refer to previous post [As Tears Go By]) She was the one who named me. I still have vivid memories of what it was like to be wrapped around by her warm arms. Needless to say, I miss her and I wish she were still around. However, upon reflection, I realized that I cried mostly because I felt very sorry for her. She was such a smart, independent sociable person who traveled around by herself. Yet, by the time she died, she had reduced to a scared, lost and unhappy old lady in ill health. There was nothing more one can do to help change the ending of her story.
As I was writing "As Tears Go By", my heart was filled with strong, convoluted emotions. I took the time to disentangle these emotions and inspected the different strands of them carefully. That led me to reflect some more on my previous losses. That was when I realized that tears at similar occasions may represent very different thoughts and feelings.
When my father died eleven years ago, I cried a lot. My nephew crowned me as the family "Crying Queen" at the funeral. I was very surprised myself because I really cannot claim to be very close to my father. So, why was I so sad? Where do all these feelings come from? Even though my father started his life as the grandson of a landlord in China living a very comfortable lifestyle, the happy days were cut short as the war began. Life became much harder after he came to Hong Kong. After decades of struggling in poverty, eventually, his children grow up and are doing quite well. My father was able to retire and enjoy some leisurely days. Wouldn't it be nice if he could enjoy this comfortable lifestyle that his children finally could afford for him for a little longer? Even though we were all very willing to support him for as long as possible, his time ran out. Why can't life cut my father a little slack and give him a longer break?
Just months after my father's passing, Mike's uncle died. Uncle Ted was a very smart and funny person. We went to Michigan to attend his memorial service. Cousins shared stories about their father and we sang hymns together. At the end of the ceremony, we were told to leave as the priest scattered Uncle Ted's ashes under his favorite rose bushes. On our way out, I could not help looking back. Slipping through the fingers of the priest, Uncle Ted's ashes drifted in the air like dust. It felt like a punch in my chest: "It takes so much to raise a baby into a man. This man spent so many years to learn, to have a career, to have relationships, . . . At the end, all he becomes is a handful of dust in the wind." Tears rushed out like water over a broken levee.
The spring that followed, Cottier Sensei, my Aikido teacher died. I cried a lot for days. I did not know Sensei had been sick. I knew about his knee problems, but he never told us about his lung issues. The thought that I would never get to see my beloved teacher again was devastating. The person who raised me all over again through Aikido has left. From now on, I have to walk this path without him. The only thing that is left for me to do is to carry on with his mission using what he taught me.
Have you lost a loved one in your life? When it happened, did you cry? What did you cry about?
Last fall, I learnt that my childhood "second mom" had died. (For full story, please refer to previous post [As Tears Go By]) She was the one who named me. I still have vivid memories of what it was like to be wrapped around by her warm arms. Needless to say, I miss her and I wish she were still around. However, upon reflection, I realized that I cried mostly because I felt very sorry for her. She was such a smart, independent sociable person who traveled around by herself. Yet, by the time she died, she had reduced to a scared, lost and unhappy old lady in ill health. There was nothing more one can do to help change the ending of her story.
As I was writing "As Tears Go By", my heart was filled with strong, convoluted emotions. I took the time to disentangle these emotions and inspected the different strands of them carefully. That led me to reflect some more on my previous losses. That was when I realized that tears at similar occasions may represent very different thoughts and feelings.
When my father died eleven years ago, I cried a lot. My nephew crowned me as the family "Crying Queen" at the funeral. I was very surprised myself because I really cannot claim to be very close to my father. So, why was I so sad? Where do all these feelings come from? Even though my father started his life as the grandson of a landlord in China living a very comfortable lifestyle, the happy days were cut short as the war began. Life became much harder after he came to Hong Kong. After decades of struggling in poverty, eventually, his children grow up and are doing quite well. My father was able to retire and enjoy some leisurely days. Wouldn't it be nice if he could enjoy this comfortable lifestyle that his children finally could afford for him for a little longer? Even though we were all very willing to support him for as long as possible, his time ran out. Why can't life cut my father a little slack and give him a longer break?
Just months after my father's passing, Mike's uncle died. Uncle Ted was a very smart and funny person. We went to Michigan to attend his memorial service. Cousins shared stories about their father and we sang hymns together. At the end of the ceremony, we were told to leave as the priest scattered Uncle Ted's ashes under his favorite rose bushes. On our way out, I could not help looking back. Slipping through the fingers of the priest, Uncle Ted's ashes drifted in the air like dust. It felt like a punch in my chest: "It takes so much to raise a baby into a man. This man spent so many years to learn, to have a career, to have relationships, . . . At the end, all he becomes is a handful of dust in the wind." Tears rushed out like water over a broken levee.
The spring that followed, Cottier Sensei, my Aikido teacher died. I cried a lot for days. I did not know Sensei had been sick. I knew about his knee problems, but he never told us about his lung issues. The thought that I would never get to see my beloved teacher again was devastating. The person who raised me all over again through Aikido has left. From now on, I have to walk this path without him. The only thing that is left for me to do is to carry on with his mission using what he taught me.
Have you lost a loved one in your life? When it happened, did you cry? What did you cry about?
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