Qing Ming

Muar is where my father is buried. Went to “sweep the grave” today. Wonder if he knows I went to see him? The images of him suffering on the death bed comes into my mind while I'm writing this down. I truly regret not been able to go there yearly. But this time round I thought I should go there at least once every year. This is the least I can do while I'm still here.

My relatives I haven’t seen for awhile have grown old. My cousin’s wife, whom I think she’s very pretty when I first saw her, has aged. And my cousin’s hair thinned, the scalp is visible with strains of hair hanging. My eldest Auntie has a same face but a highly crinkled one. I’m not being mean or anything, this is the harsh truth of old age.

Today I’ve learned the 2 important cycles of life, old age and death, right in my face style. How impermanence life is.