In this unusually scorching summer, your departure came so suddenly. Mother kept saying she would come to see you, but before she could arrive, you had quietly left. My cousin, far away in another city, is filled with guilt for not being by your side. She can only watch videos of you over and over, tears streaming down her face.
Last week, we gathered to celebrate your birthday. Relatives and friends came from near and far to visit you. We all knew you were advanced in years and your health was gradually declining. Deep down, everyone understood this might be our last gathering, but none of us expected the regret to arrive so swiftly.
That evening, when I received Mother’s call and heard her choked voice, I kept comforting her and promised to come first thing the next morning. During the pandemic, when Grandfather passed away, Mother was so overwhelmed with grief that she nearly fainted, frightening us all. So, I urged her to take care of herself first.
Early the next morning, my cousin and his family and I hurried back to the old house in the countryside. Our childhood memories had long faded, and for a moment, we couldn’t find the way back. After a few wrong turns, we finally found Uncle’s home near the village entrance at the Guan Yu Temple. We parked the car and walked along the old village path to that familiar house.
The old house was exactly as I remembered, unchanged in every way. The moment I saw it, a flood of memories rushed back. I quickly stepped forward to help receive the relatives and friends who had come to pay their respects. Hearing the news, people arrived from all directions, their faces etched with sorrow.
The rituals were intricate and traditional, and everyone was busy. We all knew this journey was our final farewell to you. In the prayers, we encouraged the living to stay strong and wished for you to rest in peace. In the afternoon, after the ceremony concluded, on our way back, my cousin and I talked about how our relatives were doing, comforting each other and sharing our grief.
Because of your passing, the small town where Mother lived her whole life has become a place of sorrow for her. The building where you once lived is now a place she avoids during her walks. I invited her to come stay with me, hoping a new environment might help ease her pain.
I’ll stop here for now. We will live well and take good care of your beloved daughter. Goodbye, dear Grandma. 👋
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