Nothing grounds me like death and funeral. When I looked at the decease, death reminds me about the truth of life. It stopped me from chasing after nonsense. It stopped me.
Therefore, last week when I had an opportunity to go to the funeral of a well respected Hmong elderly whom family was my partner’s close friends, I grabbed it.
It had been a long week for me, I was tired. though I slipped into polite black dress for this occasion. When we arrived I saw a big mopped of Asian all over the front of the funeral home as if this wasn’t America!
Once I stepped in side I felt the magnetic sad energy that took over me. My whole body was struck with deep sadness. Suddenly I turned to the right side of the room and found “her” in the open casket under the clear glass.
The sorrow feeling overwhelmed me and leaded my thought to my mother back home somehow. I started to chock up. My mind flew away to be near my mother. When was the last time I talked to her? I suddenly looked at my busy life and the body of the Hmong lady that lied still. At that moment, I was taken over by love that I have for my mother. … What if this was her that departs. I started to cry.
I continued on with the funeral by holding deep against my tears. Slowly...I learned about Hmong’s culture. Near “her”, there were moaners. Not far, people divide into two sides across long tables talking about her life on the microphone in form of questions and answers. The big roasted pig was sacrificed lying still in the middle.
Hmong families from every corner of US flew in. The long funeral ended the next morning. At 10 pm the husband of sweet grandma came in and the crowds welcome his grief.
He took both of us to “visit” her. He ran his hands against the clear glass lovingly and “talked” to her. The love from his eyes flooded my heart with sorrow.
A week pasted, we visited him again at his “compound” far out of town where his family grew big vegetable garden. They raised many cows and chickens which would become their food just like back home.
Grandpa still grieved over his wife’s death. I learned that he loves her more in her death. He knew more about love since she was gone. 56 years of marriage, falling in love at at age 14 and 17, no one else…just two of them and 51 grandchildren. He pointed to the empty space where grandma used to stand and told us…her stories. He continued to mourn for her.
Weeks had gone by I received an early morning phone call from home,”Nim, our mom has cancer in her lung, we called from the hospital, she is about to get an operation to remove it.” I was shaking. Talking quick and wishing my mother well, three hours later the surgery was done and she presumably cancer-free. However, the doctor continue to search ..for more. After taking 20% of her lung off , she will be under the radiation.
So yesterday, I closed down my studio and move my work to home. I am getting smaller. I will paint near the big trees not far from quiet lake under our shared sky. I freed my time and next Thus I will hop on the airplane to be near the woman whom bore me into this world. 22 bitter years that my mother has longed for me as I immigrated here. It is my duty and turn to care for her.
I emptied my home and my life. Having all the time to “feel”, I will never let a moment between me and her…slip away.
Nothing stops me like funeral. Nothing gives us bigger lesson than death.
This month, I learned about BIG love. That once you past small love you will reach the BIG love… with the same person you married to …just wait. Grandpa said it was BIG. Bigger than when they were both alive.
I touched his shoulder with respect and care and whisper soft “ what a chance any human will get to experience this BIG love like you and grandma.”
I said goodbye to grandpa and the spirit of his wife. I will fly home to care for my ma and really live life for the first time.
Nothing ground me like funeral. Nothing teaches me how to live life like death.
