Processing and Changing: How Death Impacts Life

There was a reason why the rain came today.

This is the third funeral I've been to in my life. My parents didn't go out of superstition because the death was untimely and too close to the Lunar New Year, but I felt I should pay my respects because these people have been friends with our family since before I was even born.

Death was always a very calculated and taboo subject in our family all because of my superstitious mother. Going to Aunt Maggie's funeral brought back feelings of how I was robbed of the opportunity to properly say goodbye to my Uncle Phil 13 years ago. My parents forced me to go to school that day, like it was business as usual. I rarely spoke about my feelings to my parents about Uncle Phil. My mother was horrified to learn that I went to the cemetery every day for many months to see Uncle Phil and talk to him in order to help me cope. While Aunt Maggie's children eulogized their mother, I thought back to how I was never able to say goodbye to my Uncle Phil. I never got to see him before the casket closed- I never got to comfort my aunt and cousin and be there for them that day. I had to develop my own method of closure over the span of 10 years. And that was the hardest way anyone needs to cope.

Going to Aunt Maggie's funeral helped me erase all the regret from the past. My sister and my cousin were there, and my cousin told me as a footnote that Aunt Maggie was actually in the same chapel that Uncle Phil had been 13 years ago. I sought comfort in that knowledge, that I properly said goodbye to Aunt Maggie and was able to say comforting words and hug Uncle Stephen, Etienne and Florence.

Nobody once asked me how I felt about my Uncle Phil's death. It was swept under the rug in our family. It wasn't until we were doing a school project about Dia de los Muertos a year later that I first publicly talked about my Uncle Phil. My classmates who never met him were more sympathetic than my own family was. And suddenly in that Spanish class in my junior year of high school, I burst into uncontrollable tears. One year after his passing I had finally acknowledged the pain and my bottled up feelings and was dealing with it- something I was totally unprepared for. From then on, it was a slow process of coming to terms with this huge void in my life. Uncle Phil was the most supportive person in my life, and whatever my parents denied me, he would dote on me and encourage every single passion I ever dreamed of undertaking. When I wanted to take up rollerblading, he went out and bought me a pair of skates. When I took up rock collecting, he presented me with a hardbound coffee table book about the most beautiful rocks in the world. As a child whose parents were always working and weren't emotionally around, his simple encouragement and actions spoke volumes. Losing this figure was a HUGE void, especially during my teen years when I needed him and his understanding most.

When Aunt Maggie's children eulogized their mother, they spoke about what an impact she had made on their lives, how she had made their well being and happiness her life's priority. With Aunt Maggie's passing, I resolved to start repairing my relationship with my mother. Despite our ups and downs, I think it's only fair that I should change my attitude towards her and help my mother understand that all the "love" she poured into me wasn't in vain. She may not be able to emotionally express how she feels towards me, but she tried in terms of taking care of my every need. I feel obligated to reach out on her level and show her with actions that I reciprocate that kind of love towards her.

I hope that learning this at 28 will give me enough time to hopefully form some kind of relationship with my mother. She has come a long way in terms of patience and I feel that if she can change, I can too.