We brought with us a feast of meats, some questionable veggies, oranges (Vitamin-C is very important in the afterlife), tea...
...and of course, SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!
(Great Grandma looked very pleased.)
We hiked up to the top of the mountain where Yeh-Yeh (my gramps) is buried.
Yeh-Yeh is very important not only because he left his little village and made a name for himself in the big city, but also because he helped a lot of people survive famine and war and continues to subsidize the education and entreprenuerial endeavors of several distant Kwan cousins and uncles. He is probably the sole reason you are currently reading this posting in English.
A great man. No doubt.
We burned a crap-ton of money for him to be make sure he was provided for wherever he is.
Lastly we visited the monastery where Uncle Benny's ashes are kept.
Visiting Uncle Benny always has an effect on me. In that little room full of ashes and incense, I feel his presence.
It sucks that we never really got to know him and were kind of kept at a distance.
For those unfamiliar with the backstory, Uncle Benny had AIDS.
He didn't seek treatment because he had little/no support from the few people who knew about his condition. As such, he died quickly when we all were still relatively young.
I think the year was 1994.
He was thirty-something.
I remember our parents (his brothers and sisters-in-law) getting all weird whenever we went to hug him.
I remember having to eat off paper plates when he was around.
God that must have sucked so much.
I also just found out yesterday that Uncle Ben was never given a proper funeral. The government, uneducated and fearful about the causes and spread of AIDS, wouldn't allow it.
So he was simply cremated and placed in his monastery cubby-hole.
He died in excruciating pain. Alone.
..................
As I walked down the steps leaving the monastery, I couldn't help but think how awful it must have been to feel so rejected and unloved when he knew that he was about to die.
I thought about our family. And I thought about karma.
..............
I think we should have a proper funeral for Uncle Benny.
I think we've all grown and changed over the years. And I'm sure many of us (especially those who had all the facts) share a sense of regret.
We owe it to him. And we owe it to ourselves.
We should share the stories and memories that we do remember. Because I'm sure it wasn't always just anger, shame, and rejection. That was just the last few years.
I know there were happy years. I've seen the old photo albums.
I'm not sure how it would all come together. Or how everyone would be able to make time between school/work/babies/etc., but I think it is important and it should happen and we should all return to Hong Kong to pay tribute to yet another great Kwan.
..............
Now with all this in my head I finally got to the bottom of the hill and walked across the monastery parking lot and opened the trunk of our car to load up all the stuff we had brought with us.
And of course...sitting smack dab in the middle of the trunk in plain view for me to see was MaMa's wheelchair, emblazoned with the simplest most mind-blowing sign from the universe:
