Cremated

The Cremation took place in the late afternoon @ Mandai Crematorium and Columbarium.

Words without pictures.
- A documentation of the events

When the rites were over (and more to follow).

I.

Relatives, we donned our ceremonial white socks,
queued in a single-file, and listened
for the undertaker's instructions.
With heavy hearts, our socks wept over the floor
as we took our turns beside Grandma's body:
shed uncontrollable tears, and bid our fond farewells.


II.

Peeking through the glass panel,
I see her sleeping peacefully in the coffin.
A white pearl seated on the ridges of her lips*

From the range of floral wreaths,
the prettiest flowers were picked
to be laid above the coffin,
wheeled into the back of the van.


III.

We marched one thousand metres
in the vapours of the afternoon heat.
Through her familiar neighbourhood,
like how she used to shop for groceries,
before the diminishing strength in her legs.

Duty, filial piety - part of a man's pride,
Dad, and the youngest son, second-son-in-line,
and the eldest son (grandson in stead),
pushing the Undertaker's Van,
with recorded buddhist chantings.

The sun shining brightly on our faces,
some were teary-eyed, some pale
from worry for Grandma's soul.
It was surreal, as if being captured
on a black and white photograph.


IV.

The onlookers,
shuffling aimlessly past
in either direction.

A pedestrian,
standing on the overhead bridge,
or waiting at the bus-stop.

The ignorant rabble
caught a glimpse of our emotions,
as we paraded past them.

We did not return their glances
our heads bowed deep
in sorrow and reflection.


V.

My dear second Aunt was very worried,
that burning Grandma's body was
not the correct decision.
What if her soul was trapped within
her physical confines?
I mumbled away,
"Burning would be good"
No more denial - no more vexing questions.

From a body to ashes.
ashes to be selectively picked by
her sons and daughters,
to be placed in an urn like Grandpa's.

I guess she's gone for good,
and we'd have to live with her memories.

Everything that has happened,
was meant to happen.

Vita brevis ad infineteur. and Memento mori.

How it all rings in my head now.

*Tale of the Empress Dowager's body being preserved by a precious pearl, whereupon extraction of the pearl, decayed instantly into a fragmented, blackening, rotten corpse.