This last weekend two friends lost their grandparents. I heard about the first on the Friday, and the second on Saturday.
Death moves quickly in Singapore. The certificate is issued within hours, and within the day the wake is held and you are in your black clothes sitting with the coffin. I remember the wake we held for Ama: the hours of sitting are so long, and people come and you are thankful but it's also so exhausting, all the small talk. People are interested in you - "where are you working now?" "are you planning on having any children?" "how's your father?" and you answer because that's what you do, when what you want is to sleep, and cry, and maybe eat a steamed bun because it reminds you of soft, grandparental love.
Both of my friends told me that their grandfathers wanted their ashes scattered out at sea. I imagined them and their families, each boarding a boat and heading out into the green waves. The sky is grey, as it has been these monsoon months. Perhaps each sees another boat in the distance but then they turn their gaze back to the task at hand. Good bye, good bye.
