It never really hit me that someone I loved was gone from my life till I came home from school one day and they just weren't there anymore. How do you explain death to a child? I don't recall having anyone give me an explanation. So I came to understand it by myself through my own perception.
When I was 7, My grandfather passed away during my first month of primary school. If I recall correctly, he was confined in bed during his last few days. During that time, I was spending my holiday in KL with my cousin. I had yet to return since I suppose that time no one bothered to think about getting a kid like me back home since it's not like I can help out much anyway. But somehow, I miraculously ended up in the hospital where my grandfather lay. It seems that he was reluctant to go without seeing someone. The adults couldn't figure out who, even the cousin from overseas rushed back, who else could it be. Turns out, It was me. Why me? I don't know. No really, I don't. I didn't even know what was happening, my sister was peeling skin off the grapes for my grandfather and my relatives were crowded at the end of his bed. In contrast of the visitors for the other patients, seems that grandpa's section looked the most lively. But not for long.
It never really occurred to me that he was gone for good, not even when I came home from school to see a coffin where my grandfather lay in satin nor when they moved the coffin and forbade children from participating in the burial. I suppose now I knew why, I would've freaked out and started screaming for them to stop. For them to stop and realize that my grandfather was in the box and it was not okay to bury him in the dirt, playtime was over so why won't they let him out?
Even after being old enough to tag along during the burial ceremony of a few of my relatives, I wished I didn't have to go. One that really hit me the most is during my aunt's funeral, we were all fine and dandy throughout the whole thing, till the moment they pushed her coffin behind closed doors and all we could see was flame from the other side. I was 12. And man did I cry like the little girl I was, Of course I got scolded by my aunts who were in tears as well.
Back then, I suppose, To me, death meant not being able to see someone anymore. When I came home from school and all that's left in the corner of grandfather's usual place in the shop was his blue plastic chair. No more old man with a jolly smile and black frames on his nose, not even the sight of his trusty umbrella in which he uses to stash money at times. I didn't have to call him for lunch, nor did I had to make up sign languages to get him to understand me anymore. My limited Hokkien never seemed to be a problem for me to converse with him, I just acted out whatever I had to tell him and he understood or maybe pretended to. But there was no need for that anymore. No more random trips for Soya bean and Pao in the evenings.
I remember every time I come back from school secretly crying over something, I would ask for him between sobs. I would keep on asking where he was and why he wasn't here, only to be answered by thin air and the sound of my own despair. I don't know why I did it, I just did. But once my mom told me that he comes back as a white butterfly once in a while to check on us, I never really did cry as much anymore. I just believed her without questioning anything, but somehow every once in a while a white butterfly roamed about at home. Which I would always assume to be my grandfather or any other ancestor.
So yeah, there you have it. My perception of death. Which in a way has a somewhat happy ending with souls coming back as white butterflies.
In memoir of my grandfather, branded for being mischievous and clumsy. But all in all a jolly man who is a kid at heart. May you rest in peace.
