Life.

My cousin sang at his own funeral. It's a little morbid but it was something he loved to do so I guess it was appropriate. I didn't even know it was him at first until my mom pointed it out. I then recognized his voice and I just started breaking down. I was probably the first person to start crying and my mom tried to tell me to quit it because I was making her do it too, and the service hadn't even started yet. My sister tried to make me stop too by jokingly gesturing that she would punch me if I did not desist.

It was really different from the traditional Chinese funeral I went to almost exactly nine years ago for my grandpa. That one was a little shorter, less talk more ritual, more about paying our respect than sharing memories but I guess in both types it is our way of coping and trying to keep the person with us for just a little bit longer.

But I felt like this one was so geared towards removing every drop of tear you have in your body because the moment I walked in my heart sank. Up on screen were images of my cousin during happy times before he got really sick. On loop was a very professional sounding recording his brother found in his car of him singing that I guess he did not share with anyone. What can you do but cry knowing that you will never see or hear him in this lifetime again? My parents were a little upset about this because it obviously hurt them, especially my dad, to have to see/hear it, but I feel like it was a really beautiful tribute from his big bro.

It's so weird to see everyone in your family, even the most stoic, show so much pain. I hugged several relatives in my family for the first time in my life and my parents for the first time since I was little. Strange how death urges us to let down our guards a little.

I kept wondering where my aunt and uncle were until I realized they didn't come, couldn't come actually. In Chinese culture, parents aren't supposed to bury their children. I don't think any parent should have to do that. I don't know if his mom would have been able to bear it anyway.

Being there I began to feel really bad about my relationship with him. There was so much I didn't know about him. I had no idea, first of all, that he was such a good singer! I thought his song was sung by a professional. I also had no idea that he was such a devout Christian. When I learned of this, everything about the way he treated the situation began to make a little more sense to me. We may have been close to siblings in terms of Chinese family relations (our dads are brothers) but as I looked around the room at all the strangers across the aisle, I felt like his real family (outside of his immediate family and family he grew up with, of course) may have been his church family. They sent him off I guess the way he would have wanted to go.

I was a little upset before because the way I saw it, he gave up. He refused to take any of the medicines my dad was trying to get him to take. But as I listened to the service, I realized I was thinking selfishly. To wish for him to live longer may have meant more pain, more chemo, more meds, and endless pain. Who knows if he would've been able to lead a normal life again? He isn't suffering anymore and he is in a better place now. I'm sure he knows that he left behind a lot of people who loved him.

Rest in peace, Patrick.