It did not rain

24th June 2022 Corridor-500 Graveyard, Mid-day

Dramas and films had taught me sad moments builds up in a cubic crescendo, the pressure increases steadily as it scales and peaks towards the point of maximum suffocation, then swiftly it concludes - off a cliff edge of emotions and whatnot;

It also should rain, heavily. Extras bracing against it with dark umbrellas. Its goodbye to the characters and then the credit rolls.

Supposedly thats the only apt way to go.

It did not rain.

Not when it happened.

Not during the 5 days of rituals.

Nor was it overcast when the prayer cloth was wrapped atop.

There were bangs, when the coffin was nailed shut, but no thunder.

It did not rain.

The many bouquets of condolences, bright yellow chrysanthemums and white whatsnamed placed atop the smooth shellac surface, reflecting the harsh tropical sun. We each flung a bit of dirt atop, then allow the funeral team to get on with full job.

The graveyard was built 40 years ago on a plot purchased 60 years ago.

He is now buried next to Ah Po, his wife had laid there waiting. That wait now ends.

Surrounded by oval knee-high concrete walls, leading to a central tombstone, their names carved centrally, his on the right, her’s left. Above it the location of ancestral home, flanked by names of sons, daughters and grandchildren. It all seemed a matter-of-fact, it belied a mount of emotions.

A small altar allowed for incense and offering, to be offered today and every year after.

We prayed, we chatted, Eldest cousin kneeled and launch a pair of 50 cents, allowing it to drop on the ground.

Heads, and Tail - Permission to go home granted.

Good bye Gonggong.

The tents were down by the time we got back, returning traffic was smooth.