My friend asked if I’ve had a big cry.
I have a few times: the morning I found my dad already gone, the next day when I went to visit him at the morgue, and then again at his funeral while reading his eulogy. I’ve had moments of crying in between but no emotions of deep, ship-sinking sadness. And this is terribly confusing, perhaps even shameful?!
I feel I should be grieving, curled up in my bed with the curtains drawn, soaking my pillows with tears. But that’s not at all what I look like. I’m getting massages with my mom. I’m writing blog posts. I’m taking photos of things. I’m eating as much as I always do. I want to get a haircut, and I’m still scheming where to travel to next. In fact, because I have a visa run to make, I’m googling beachy places nearby.
Know what else is preoccupying my brain? A boy. Yup, a crush. My father died and I lay in bed daydreaming about a hopeless relationship.
There’s a scene in Love Actually where Liam Neeson is speaking at his wife’s funeral and their son just stares into space not because he’s sad his mother just died but because he’s in love. I feel like that kid.
I’ve expressed to a couple friends this confusion and concern of being a horrible, cold-hearted, selfish daughter. One told me there are no “Shoulds.” Everyone grieves differently and I am to set my own pace. I’m told it is a long process, and I have the rest of my life to grieve and process it all.
Meanwhile, life goes on.
A Traditional Chinese Funeral: Rites, Rituals, and Little Time for Processing
Hi Meimei,
I’d like to extend my deepest condolences to you and your family. One of the things that I remember most about you is how much you liked and loved your father because of how special he made you feel. I love stories like that.
I can not tell you or anyone how to grieve, but I can share some of my experiences. My father died in 1997 and I miss him everyday. When I found out that he had died, I didn’t cry. When my siblings and I spoke with the funeral director about his funeral preparations, shopped for the suit to bury him in, when I kissed him for the last time at the service and when I watched his coffin being lowered into the ground I did not cry. I cried when all of the memories started to flood in… and I’m so grateful for those memories. I’ll always miss him, but the memories and lessons always give me comfort.
Thank you so much, Coco. I really appreciate you sharing your experience with me. I am also grateful for the memories I have with my dad–there are many and most of them contain laughter. There are also many lessons I’ve learned, already in this short time, from remembering my dad’s life, and I hope I can carry on his legacy as a good soul. Thanks again, Coco. Much love to you.