Most people describe a particularly difficult period in their lives as an emotional roller coaster. I can understand that, given that roller coasters take you in different directions, usually rather quickly, and can be pretty terrifying for some. But if you think about it, you're also very well strapped in to a roller coaster. I've recently experienced something more like an emotional teeter-totter: there were two directions (up and down), and I could have potentially fallen off at any moment.
Last Friday, after another gruelling week at work, there was an issue with one of my many projects. As usual, it happened at about 4:30 in the afternoon. I ended up staying late to see if there was a way to rectify the situation. Thankfully, the mechanic pulled it off and we were able to continue packaging the product. Just as I was about to leave the production floor, the shift lead came up and told me about a different issue with a different product. My high from solving the first problem was short lived. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about the second issue because nobody was around to sign off on the paperwork. So we left that one for the following week, and I went to pack up my desk to go home.
I was in the process of shutting off my computer when I received an e-mail from my dad. He was writing to inform me, my brothers and cousins, and a number of family friends that one of the aunties had passed away on Wednesday. She was someone I had known my whole life, and who was one of my mother's regular mah jong partners. My sudden outpouring of tears surprised me, and I was glad that nobody was in the office to see me lose it. I knew that she had suffered a stroke earlier in the week because she and her husband were supposed to go to a show with my parents on the weekend. I had no idea the stroke had been so bad. But I also knew that she had a pre-existing heart condition and that she had a pacemaker.
I took a deep breath and left the office. Once I got home, I called my parents' house and my dad answered. He told me that the best guess they had was a blood clot must have formed somewhere and travelled up to her brain. Since she was already on blood thinners, there was nothing more they could do. She was the nicest person, and one of my mom's best friends. I asked how my mom was and, after a pause, my dad said that she was working through it. The visitation would be on the following Friday evening, and the funeral would be on Saturday morning. I said I would be there for sure. My dad said I didn't have to go, but this was an auntie that I had seen more often through the years than some of my actual blood relatives.
I made it through this week without thinking about it too much. When the usual question of "what are you doing this weekend?" came around, I would tell a little bit of the story. I left work yesterday and went straight to my parents' house. We, along with one of my dad's high school friends, drove to the cemetery where the visitation was being held. My mother looked tired, and she said she hadn't slept well for the past week. Once we got to the room, we went up to the casket to pay our respects. That's when my mom burst uncontrollably into tears. I've learned that if there's one thing I can't stand, it's to see my mother cry. I started to lose it as well, so I just guided her over to a chair and sat her down. We spent the visitation chatting with people, most of whom were my dad's high school friends (my dad and the auntie's older sister were in the same class) or my mom's mah jong friends. When it was time to go, my family and a few others decided to go to a nearby popular chinese restaurant for a snack.
They were surprised to see the restaurant so crowded at that hour. I had to remind them that it was a Friday night. We waited for a couple of minutes before we were seated. As we were lead to the table, I glanced around quickly and almost immediately saw my ex-boyfriend. And of course, as my luck would have it, we were being seated at the table right next to his. I've got to tell you, I was just about to fall off the teeter-totter right there. I really didn't have the strength to deal with this kind of thing at that moment. But I just plowed forward with my head down, and it seemed like he hadn't noticed me. He was sitting with a large group of people, and from what I could tell they were celebrating something so I hoped he was sufficiently distracted. I sat through the meal without eating much and without looking up unless I had to. Nobody questioned my somewhat depressed mood, assuming I was affected by the current situation. I'm glad the universe decided to cut me some slack. In the end, I made it out of the restaurant without anyone noticing anybody.
I'll bet you just read that last paragraph and asked yourself, "What??" Those who know will know, but for those who don't, it will be a story for another time.
This morning, we went back to the cemetery and attended the funeral service. Watching my uncle and his daughter and the rest of their family, I couldn't help but become as emotional as everyone around me. But by the time I was watching my auntie being lowered into the ground, there was a calm peace in me. I've watched many a person being buried, like my grandparents, and this seems to happen each time.
At the customary lunch that followed, my mother became even more upset near the end, but mostly because the atmosphere had become far most festive than she would have liked. People were laughing loudly, especially at the younger table. She said that it sounded more like a wedding dinner than a reception after a funeral. I know that she lost someone important to her, and I assured her that everyone there felt it too. But I asked her, would you rather have everyone sit around the tables and cry, or would you rather we all chat and comfort each other with a laugh or two?
But after a while, I started to think that they did get a little too loud.
"This is the part of me that you're never gonna ever take away from me"
