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I’m sorry. I thought I didn’t need to do this but the details are just too vivid.

We all woke up early that morning. Hubby bought breakfast for everyone in the house and soon, everyone got ready.

A relative who came early felt it her “duty” to ask me WHY the casket was closed. According to her, it should only be closed after the prayers at the house and before its journey to the church.

I was quite irked by her enquiries because I didn’t want to make my elder sis feel any worse. She did her best working with the undertaker but both of them were not familiar with either the Catholic or Eurasian traditions.

My elder sister heard her question - she felt bad I’d arrived home to a covered casket, pawing at my father’s face through the glass. She suggested that we ask the undertaker if the cover could still be opened, which made the relative recoil, saying,

“Is the body embalmed? It’s unhealthy…”

Then, my younger sister came - she too didn’t have the chance to look at my father after he was spruced up.

The undertaker arrived to face 3 women - I think I attacked him with,

“Why did you close the casket? My sister said to keep it open because I haven’t come home yet…”

I think he explained something but I couldn’t remember what he said as the tears started.

“That’s my father, you know? Do you know how I feel coming back and not being able to touch him? I was just clawing at the glass!”

“Why is he covered up? He should be seen in his suit and also his rosary in his hands. When you cover him up like that, it looks as if something’s wrong with him.”

He assured us that the suit and rosary are there and that he could help us open the casket. I remember what the relative said and asked him about it. He said that embalming isn’t encouraged nowadays because it kept the body artificially intact for years and also involved many injections.

I know I was relieved to hear this humanitarian side of the undertaker as I wouldn’t like my father being prodded and poked after he died.

After he assured us that it can be opened, my elder sister marshalled everyone to the back, saying that we shouldn’t be there when it was opened. My younger sister and I couldn’t help asking, “Why?” only to be met with dark looks from our Chinese relations.

He called us out and we three approached the casket. I held my breath and then reached out touch my father’s cheek. He was frozen.

My sisters cried but I didn’t. I’d vented all my feelings at the poor undertaker already.

I simply kissed him goodbye.

At the church, I feel so sad looking at Lucas circling the casket. He’s so innocent and oblivious to what’s happening.

After the Mass, the undertaker’s team pushed my father out - it would have been nice if he had sons and relatives to lift him into the hearse.

Lucas then went with my Mum and my aunts, leaving all of us free to go to the cemetery. My Mum was told that spouses usually don’t attend the burial (?).

The plot we’d picked out for him had a freshly dug pit, with the casket laid over cross-wised wooden planks. My first thought,

“How were they going to lower him down?”

The priest started the prayer but we were too emotional to pay attention. Then, ropes were brought out and strung under the casket. I think people started singing then.

My heart beat faster and faster as the casket was lowered. When it reached the ground, the priest called us to check if it was straight.

Oh my God, I was not prepared for this! I went around to the other end of the plot but I was asked to climb up the mound of earth onto the planks.

I think someone offered his arm to hang onto as I climbed up awkwardly. I looked down at the casket lying so deep down. If that wasn’t enough, I was then asked to stand squarely in the center to gauge.

Taking a deep breath, I adjusted myself and then looked straight ahead. Then, I looked down and checked that the casket was straight. The priest asked,

“Is it straight?”

I said,

“Yes, it is straight.”

I climbed down carefully as I felt a little bit dizzy. It’s quite scary the thoughts that go through your mind when you’re looking down a deep pit with a casket in it.

“Pa, you didn’t tell me about this!”

The priest gave the final blessing and then nodded to us. One by one, we went forward and flung a bit of earth onto the casket. Then, the grave digger started piling more earth on until the pit was completely filled.

We just cried and cried and cried. How can you not cry? They had just put my father into a wooden box, lowered him into the ground and buried him under so much earth.

“Would he feel cold? Would he feel scared? Would he be safe? Would he be lonely all by himself there?”

Just because someone has died, that doesn’t mean you stop caring or worrying about them.

I regained composure again until my younger sister burst out,

“I want Papa! I’m only 20 years old…”

I never felt the loss of my father more so than then. My elder sister and I had 10 years more of beautiful memories with him than her.

I assured her that we’d compile all his photos, diaries, notes and other items. I’d write down everything I can remember about him for her to read. We’d talk and talk about him so she’ll know as much about him as we do.

“Do you have any videos of him?”

I have been so obsessed with Lucas that I do not take videos of anyone else. I only remember the video of my wedding - Hubby’s uncle had candidly filmed me from the point of making up until the end of the wedding mass.

I said yes. I need to convert those mini DVs into DVD. I also want to see my father alive in action again.

She finally calmed down and then we just stared at the mound of earth. My uncle came by to give her a hug and broke down himself. I told him he had to keep in touch with us because we don’t have a father now. He nodded.

People started leaving and then we sat around for a while. We straightened the candles lit there and then slowly made our way out of the cemetery. How difficult it was to leave him behind!

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