Blog #2: My First... farewell
"We are almost there."
The car was moving slowly. There was odd silence. Nobody spoke a word until my dad turned back to tell us we were reaching the place. My mother looked down at me with her wet dark brown eyes and whispered silently:
"Remember to behave, okay?"
I walked out of the car, holding my mother's hand. It was hot outside with a little bit of rain. Typical weather in Saigon. The place looked neat and gloomy. Everyone was wearing black. I was wearing my short black dress and a small black hat with a white ribbon on the side. I held my mother's hand tightly.
"I'm scared."
"There is nothing scary here, sweetheart." My mother knelt down and patted my head "We are here to say good bye to Mai."
"Mai? Where is she going?" I looked up at my mother with eyes of curiosity. The blinding bright sun covered my mother's face with shadow.
My mother kissed me on the forehead and stood up. She released a long sigh, then shook her head.
"Let's go."
Everyone was talking silently. The kids were playing behind the lines of chairs. One of the old women shushed the kids a few times. My dad came late because he couldn't find a parking spot. He went over to my aunt and hugged her. I could see her trying to hold her sobbing.
"Why is aunt Hoa crying mom?" I pulled my mother's hand.
"Because she has to say good bye to Mai." My mother flipped her hair over her shoulder with the other hand "We are all here to say good bye to her."
I wanted to ask more, but looking at her eyes, I kept silent. I went behind the chairs and played with the other kids. Time passed by, and it was already afternoon. My mother came to me and held my hand, whispered to me softly.
"Let's say good bye."
It was about a two minute walk through the stone pavement. We arrived at a quiet place, where my aunt was standing. Her eyes were red. My mother led me to a grey stone with words which I did not understand on it.
"Say good bye to Mai, love."
"She's not here." I looked at my mom, confused.
"She's watching you. Say good bye." She smiled sadly.
"She's playing hide and seek? Where is she?"
"Just..." my mother looked away quickly, her voice cracking, "say good bye, love, say good bye."
I looked at the grey stone and whispered softly.
"Good bye, Mai."
This was the memory of my cousin's funeral when I was 5. She died from cancer at the age of 8. Some of the details are actually blurry, and I was trying to make up parts of it because I did not really understand the meaning of death at the age of 5. The reason why this memory is so important to me is because it teaches me the importance of silence in life, where you can read the mood with silence.
The story happened when I was young, but since I've understood what happened now when I'm older, my emotions might differ. I might have not thought that much when I was younger, but when my mom told me what happened, I felt it differently. This shows that emotions do come with understanding about a matter, which also affects the writing.
