Let the tide fade

Me and my dad

Couple of weeks ago, my dad died, just few days before my flight back to Hong Kong to see him. He had been battling with ill health for a few years and recently contracted sepsis which made his foot turn black. So, in many ways, it was a relief for him but nevertheless, it was a shock for me and my family.

Immediately, I was flooded with messages from loved ones and friends. They all felt sad for me that I missed my last chance to see him. They were worried that I would blame myself for not going back sooner. Indeed, I could have done, but he was stable at the time and no one could predict what might or might not happen.

In my culture and being in a Buddhist family, we start the grieving process through rituals. From the day my dad died, we observe a vegetarian diet, along with prayers every day in hope that he would go to a better life next time and achieve Nivarna eventually. We mark his passing every 7 days until day 49 (7 weeks). Traditionally, you can only break fast after 49 days as this is when you 脫孝 , your filial duty is completed. This is followed by a wake called 解穢酒 – A feast to remove the bad things. However, in the modern fast paced society, everyone seems to forgo the 49 days practice and break fast straight after the funeral and this particular wake is called 𡢞紅宴. It has a meaning of entwining the deceased’s shrine in red (lucky colour for Chinese) after the ceremony. A celebration of life if you like.

The first few days of the rituals were a bit surreal. Unlike how I honoured my grandparents, I couldn’t bring myself to pray with much enthusiasm. It was as if I was still in shock or denial that this had happened. Gradually, with each day passed, I gently allowed myself to accept the fact that my dad is no longer with us.

I am not a great fan of PDE – Public Display of Emotions. So having a meditation practice really helped me to have my own space to release and deal with what emotion was arising in the moment. Also coming from a big family, it created a mental space for me to step back from family politics and their emotions in such difficult time.

I am also feeling grateful to be surrounded by loved ones and all my friends (old and new) for their support. Especially my aunties (my dad’s sisters) been keeping me busy with gossips, laughter, and lots of gorgeous vegetarian food. Most of all, the fond memories of my dad.

As the funeral approaches – a 2-day affair – I can’t help but feel anxious. How would I react when I see his body (yeah open casket is a thing in Hong Kong)? What if I can’t do PDE (kind of expected in some ways), would I be judged as if I didn’t care? Is there really such thing as reincarnation and whether my dad is still with me or just a fragment of my imagination? Questions, questions…

I know in many ways, this is just the beginning of my journey of grief. Something came up during my meditation which gave me food for thoughts: Perhaps, grief doesn’t have to be a painful thing. If Impermanence is a fact of life, then so is our grief, our longing, our missing. But as they say, true love never dies. So why hold on to the grief so tightly when I can cherish what is already here within me?  

Let the tide fade by Rina Cheung

Love is deep

as the ocean

Yet it is within reach

for you to feel it

just as it is

Be still

Let the tide fades

It always comes back

in a new wave