We had to go back to that posh crematorium today to pick up the ashes - or so it is called though it is actually pieces of bones. I was not intending to go through this process (jet-lag. slept at 0700 hrs) BUT.... the BUT speaks for itself.
Early morning (for me) and there was mum rattling me from my sleep, "Are you coming with us?"
With both eyes closed and still deep in slumberland, "Huh? What?"
Mum : "Quick tell me! I still need to ask your cousin if there is enough space in the car!"
For those who know me well enough, I live by my reputation of being an oink-oink. When I sleep, I sleep. The world can collapse and I will still be snoring away happily. So you reckon I knew what was happening? Of course NOT!
Me : "Oh... go call cousin first, then let me know again."
Back to concuss state.
After some time, mum tried to wake me up again,"Do you want me to make you some coffee?"
Me : "No."
Mum : "Ice Coffee?"
Me : "NO!!!!"
She left my room. Concuss.
Mum : "Wake up NOW! Your cousin is waiting for us downstairs NOW!"
My eyes sprung wide open in shock and I exclaimed, "What?????????? I didn't say I'm going!!!!"
Then the debate started on the yes-no of what I had say. Whatever. I grouchily dragged myself out of bed and readied myself in five minutes. Still sulking, we went down to the void deck and in my zombie world, I headed towards the wrong car.
Mum : "Where ya going? That's not your cousins car!"
I mumbled back, "Huh? I thought he's driving his wife's..... oh yah... you did mention the Lexus. Nevermind." I wobbled back to my mum's side.
Me : "Where is he? I thought you said he's here waiting?"
Mum : "No. I said he will be here in five minutes."
Me : "No you didn't. You said..... nevermind."
I was not ready for another "you said but I said" debate with my mum. I stood there staring into blank space whilst waiting for my cousin in oblivion to everything else around me. My cousin finally arrived and I crawled to the back seat of the car, greeted my annoying aunties and spaced out.
We arrived at the crematorium and some of the other relatives had already arrived. I immediately slumped myself onto an empty seat and waited for instructions. My cousins were definitely amused by my half-dead face and knew I was struggling to keep awake.
We were called in to this little room and the bones/ashes were ready for 'picking'. Chopsticks were also prepared for the bone-picking process. Interesting. Bits and pieces of bones, white and pink in colour.
"Can you see the pink on the skull? This is caused by the medication", some guy was explaining.
I learn something new everything. So those are the skull bits and oh boy, I never knew about the pink and its relation to medication. Interesting...
The church members offered their prayers again and we were ready to pick the pieces.
"Skull pieces in first", that same guy directed.
Right... I couldn't help but raise my notorious left eyebrow as I looked at that guy in amusement and I silent thought,"You mean.... if we put the skull pieces in first, we would get the skull reconstructed in that funny shape urn?" I think not. But being the good kid who does not question the senior's words of wisdom, I did as I was told. One piece for me is enough, thank you.
After sealing the urn, it was the duty of the eldest son to carry it from the crematorium to the... erm... ok... here's when I'm stuck. I have been trying to recall that world... ya know... the place where you place the urn. Not a graveyard, not a cemetary.... but just blocks of niche to place the urn. CAN ANYONE HELP ME OUT HERE?
Anyway, so we had to travel from Mandai to that Poh Huat whatever-you-call-it place. When we arrived at that whatever-place, I started to have stupid questions in my head again and turned to ask my mum, "Mum, is this where grandpa is as well?"
Mum : "Yes."
Me : "Oh. So will grandma and grandpa be next to each other?"
Mum : "Yes. We bought her space a long time ago."
Me (nearly falling over) : "Bought her space? You mean you must BUY THE SPACE?"
Mum : "Of course! What do you think? We paid a thousand one hundred then for it."
Mental note : Add another $1,100... err... make it another few thousands... price may inflate... to buy my own death space.
Mental note again : Must think of cheaper ways of being dead.
Me : "And what is that thing about the baptism cert?"
Mum : "Oh.... you need a baptism cert before they (the people at this whatever-you-call-it place) will let you use the niche."
Me : "??????????"
Then the pastor turned to explain to me something about the rules, why (to certify that one IS a Christian), the exceptions and the way to go about getting a niche if one does not have a baptism cert.
My jaws dropped.
Me : "Talk about death being political, huh?"
Information overload.
Too much for an hour on a sleepy morning.
Talk about a crash course in death lessons!
More mental notes :
Should I die....
It shall be fun-O-ral.
No drama queens.
No tragic music.
No tragic sermons.
Stand-up comedians, yes please!
Forget about cremation and niches, just throw rolly-polly into the sea.
Bottomline is, I CAN'T AFFORD MY OWN DEATH.
So as I was toying with my own death thoughts, I heard a heck-hilarious discovery from one my cousins. Apparently the niche is on 'offer' now. Good time to buy one's own death space. Bad economy perhaps? What luck! Even niche can go on offer!
Cheap cheap! Cheap cheap! Any takers for death spaces on offer?
Whilst toying with my morbid thoughts, the caretakers opened the cement-sealed niche (don't even bother to ask why it is cement sealed. That's another long novel. THE family thing). We placed grandma's urn next to grandpa's and it was then that I noticed the etching on the marbled-screen. Grandpa's surname had been changed. I asked my mum and she explained that the family unanimously decided that what his rightful surname should be (nevermind what is printed on the I.D. card). You see, my mum's family of 9 children bore 4 different surnames. It was said that people in the old days were illiterate thus the children were registered under a variety of surnames as deemed fit. So, I self-speculated that the death surname followed that of the eldest son. Tradition.
Each of us placed a stalk of flower in front of the niche as a sign of respect and that was that. The end.
Lunch time and everything resumed back to normal. Greedy auntie gorging her fat face like there is no tomorrow, female cousins counting calories, indiscreet amused questioning of South Africa and the vicious gossips amongst the siblings.
Life goes on.....
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