Taiwanese funerals are complex things. The funeral of the dragon's grandmother went on for three days. Or, more accurately, we left after day three, the day of the main funeral, one week after her death. There were still more rituals to observe after that. The fact that she was old and at the top of a large family probably added to the complexity.
We arrived in Taipei on Thursday (6 July). Grandmother had died the previous Tuesday. My father-in-law took us to the hospital to see her the same day. I have attended a Taiwanese funeral once before and I was ready for the Taiwanese lack of squeamishness. The hospital staff had put her in cold storage, but the body was not prepared. I'd never been to a morgue before. There was a wall of drawers and the man simply pulled one out for us. For some reason I was expecting to see feet emerge first, but I was wrong. She looked like she was sleeping. It was a little emotional, but the shock of seeing her body didn't bother me.
The following day we visted the hospital a second time and took my sister-in-law with me. They had prepared the body by that time and we saw her again, this time on the table. She was covered in a yellow shroud with Bhuddist swasticker symbols all over it in red. You see the swastickers everywhere in Bhuddist countries and it always bothers me, but it means something totally different to Bhuddist and Hindu people.
The whole family spent many hours folding paper lotus flowers to sew on the shroud. When the body is cremated, the lotus flowers are supopsed to carry the spirit to the next place. I have never really discovered exactly what the next place is. It must be like a waiting room, since the cornerstone of bhuddism seems to be a belief in reincarnation. We also folded paper clothes and shoes for her to wear, and hundreds of little boat shaped things that represent ingots, or old fashioned coinage.
I'm not a bhuddist and I don't really have any firm understanding of the faith. I don't believe in anything, but the paper folding gave everyone a chance to sit together and contemplate things. It was a real coming together of people who don't usually spend time in each other's company. The whole family got involved, including those living abroad like me, some from Japan, and some from America.
Sunday was the first day of the funeral. We had to go to the temple and listen to hours of chanting. If the mood hadn't been so sombre, I think it might have been funny. I understood very little of it. I was given a copy of the chant to sing along if I wished, but I can only read about one character in ten at that speed. It's also probably very formal language and therefore difficult for me. I think Sunday chanting went on maybe three or four hours.
Monday was another day of chanting at the temple. I think it went on longer and each family group stood before the alter and said a little prayer with a stick of incense. I never know what to do when someone hands me the incense. I can't say a prayer in the name of a religion that I have never studied. I feel it would be an insult to try. I just put my hands together like everyone else and plant the little stick in the pot on the shrine.
We had to bow at the right time during this ceremony. It's usually easy for me to do this because it feels as though I am bowing to the dead person. I don't mind doing that, she has my respect. I don't know if the bowing has a religious significacnce to everyone else. The only propblem is when one's name is called and one has to bow individually. Again, I don't mind doing it, but they always use my Chinese name and I often miss it. The dragon stepped on my foot at the appropriate moment until I got used to hearing the sound of my name.
Tuesday was the day of the main funeral. It began at 7.30am with more chanting. I think there were two sessions which lasted perhaps one hour each. This time immediate family, including me, had to put on black robes. I felt like Harry Potter. It was another of those moments that would have been funny at any other time. After the chanting sessions we were ushered into another chamber for the funeral itself. The ceremony didsn't go on too long. Each family group had to walk forward and pay respects, light a stick of incense, and kow tow. This was difficult for me again because I rank lower in the family than my wife and couldn't stand beside her and ask her what to do. I felt that making a mistake would be an offence, in addition to being just plain emabrassing.
The body of the old lady was brought in in an open casket during this ceremony. The casket was placed, still open, in a small ante room behind the shrine. Each family group, once they have paid their respects, walked past the coffin and view her. Even the children do this in Taiwan. It seems hard to make children see death so close, but honestly, I think they were emotionally stronger than many of the adults. I didn't see any of them burst into tears. It didn't frighten me either, though I stood back to let more immediate family get close.
When all had filed past the coffin, senior members of Grandmother's family by marriage formally passed their condolances to the most senior member of her own family. Some money changed hands.
And then the coffin was nailed shut. Everyone had to turn away from the casket at this time. Turning to face the coffin is considered very unlucky. It has something to do with allowing part of one's soul to get trapped in the coffin with the deceased.
And then the body was taken to the crematorium. We followed the hearse, all still wearing our black robes. And when we got there we saw the coffin pushed into the fire. Here also we burnt all the folded paper models we made. That was the most thought provoking point for me, though I can't put my finger on why exactly.
In the west, that would be the end of things, but in Taiwan you are expected to wait for the remains. They came within 90 minutes, delivered on a silver tray, white pieces of bone. Apparently it is important that the remains are put into the pot feet first. So only the lower parts of the remains were presented on the tray I think. Each of us was invited to pick a piece of bone from the tray and put it in the pot. I knew this would happen and I was expecting to feel uneasy about it. In fact it wasn't so hard. The most difficult part was remembering how to say "hurry to your new home" in Chinese.
And there the story ends except for a celebratory feast in the evening. We did stay a few extra days and again it was hard to say goodbye to these people that I have come to love as my own family. Expecially hard was saying goodbye to my wife's Grandfather as always. He's now 93 and for the first time in more than 70 years his wife is not by his side. He seems to be handling things very well. He appears to accept death better than the younger people, perhaps simply because he has had time to contemplate it. He shook my hand as I left and I couldn't help but think that one day in the not too distant future, I would be returning for his funeral. The smile on his face did not suggest that the same thought occurred to him.
One more thing we did before we flew back was write a letter to grandmother. All the letters will be burnt today. I found that writing a letter was really the best way to say goodbye to the old lady with whom I shared a house for all those months. It's a very personal thing. Next week her remains go join all her deceased relatives remains. It was a rough experience, but I learnt things, about myself, about death, and about Asian culture.
