How can it be a sweet sorrow? It’s sorrow, it’s sad. Salty from tears.



I flew to KK on Wednesday evening after an exhausting and sweaty start of the day doing site reccy for an upcoming event, and dropping by the office after that to do some work before heading to the airport.

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20.06.2013, Thursday, 7am. The family cemetery is on a hill, and the view is quite precious. Aunt Rose said traditions don’t allow the grave to be cemented over until a year has passed, upon my surprise of it still being bare. Aunt Nora, Uncle Norbert and I started to light candles and arrange the flowers before the other relatives trooped in for the morning prayers. I held my hand against the soil. I protected the candles from the light breeze that threatened to dim them. The prayers went on.


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The memorial service proper started around 7:30pm at mama’s house, that’s still being taken care of by my uncles. It’s used for family dinners sometimes, and I am glad. Mama always loved to have everyone around, like the Sunday rituals we had when we were small. An estimated 80 people (or more, judging by the frequency the maids had to wash the plates and bring them back out) came for the memorial, and being Catholics it was a long prayer circle for mama’s soul. Weirdly enough, last month my aunt had a dream in which mama called her from church. She can’t recall the details but she said she heard people praying in the background.

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Today I was up and about at 6am, spending most of the time for family matters, and squeezing whatever I could to check up on work. In the late evening, my mum’s siblings came over for a farewell dinner. Homecooked dishes. The little things I miss the most. Seeing us together made me wish for mama again. I miss having family around me.



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