Memorial via Live-stream
Memorial Via Live-Stream
It's nearly 2am, I'm waiting for my cousin to call me back. He's likely mixing and mingling with the throngs of family members back in my ancestral home. They are strengthening their bonds through that grief which unites friends and family in their hours of darkness. He hasn't forgotten me - but there is a lot going on, and it's tough to pull out a phone when the heart needs so much.
It's not 2am for him; its 2 in the afternoon. He's been managing himself throughout the funeral services of our departed grandfather since 8am. Managing himself since grandpa left his body a little over a week ago. I've been managing too, but on the other side of the world, with no way to get back to the people I need the most right now. It's 2am for me because I migrated to Asia a decade ago.
Remote Service
From 7pm until now, my cousin has broadcast the service to me in short bursts. Most of the memorial involves people meeting together, sharing stories, celebrating the life of a pillar of both his family and community. I'm there, but I'm also the only person not there. My tears are rendered as pixels on a screen no one can see, and that never-fading sense of alienation from all I know is welling up inside of me with profound turbulence.
Managing Guilt
I'm grateful that, even in this capacity, I could "be there;" technology has come a long way. I had one of those dreams that stick in 2016 about being a remote controlled robot that walked around like me in the old country while I conducted myself here. I was attending a funeral in that dream too. In my reality, I am not walking or rolling around but being carried by my cousin.
I feel a lot of guilt about being not there. This year my daughter passed away, then my father. We lost a lot of time and money to grief and hospital bills. We took a small "summer holiday" to Japan to see the Jizo for my daughter - to rekindle my spirit for I've never suffered so much. My heart's never been broken into so many pieces. The trip cost a little more than I was expecting, but we landed back in China feeling refreshed, and glad that we'd spent some money on our happiness, rather than grief.
Grandpa left his body three days after we returned home - right after we put a down payment on a new apartment. My promotion at my (EOL) job began demanding a large chunk of time lest I downgrade back down to a lower level and miss my raise (I missed a lot of time at work this year). I had no time. No money. Nothing I could spend to get back out. It wasn't the first time being an immigrant made me feel stuck. Not the first time being stuck hurt this bad. It feels like I'm taking a beating to a fresh bruise. Just more pain I cant do much about. My family is understanding. My brother cut contact as soon as Dad passed - which bothers me a little. Not that I tried too hard to keep in touch; a lot of air between us.
Calling it a Night.
My wife fell asleep on the couch around 1:30am and I've been waiting with no expectations of getting a callback. Not much I can say now. Not much they haven't heard me say already.
With loving kindness, Daruma