I was in the first grade when my Uncle Manuel died. He was the brother of my mother. The whole family was in grief. At that time, there was no funeral
parlor. There was not even electricity
yet.
I was affected so much with his death. I was his favourite nephew. He did not marry so regarded me as his
son. I even call him ‘daddy’.
The old folks in my small community had a very unique
belief. It is said that to be wise,
books used in school be placed in the pillow of the dead. I went to school for three days without
books.
There was no embalming of the dead before, so he was buried
after three days. The funeral procession
was long as he was a teacher English in a local Chinese school. My books was taken out only in time for the
burial.
Today, after several decades, this practice will be too
unbelievable. Nobody perhaps will
believe this anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment