Feelings to express [the end of life]

I received bad news this morning that an uncle I had known for many years suddenly passed away. Whether it is my family or friends, as long as someone I know suddenly leaves, I will have a feeling of fear and indescribable complex feelings in my heart.

The uncle's cause of death was not due to illness, but an explosion in the middle of driving. Their family entrusted my brother's funeral service to help with the process.

A lot of people often say that you are used to seeing this line of work, and you should see it very openly when you are numb. My brother also often told me that King Yama wants you to die at the third watch, who would dare to keep you at the fifth watch.

To be honest with my heart, I didn't read it very openly. When I heard the word "death", I was still very afraid, especially the dead person was my relatives.

I'm a very emotional and sentimental animal, and my dad's unpredictable departure did cast a shadow on me in that regard.

Now the psychological feeling is still mixed. Maybe I have had a similar experience, and I will be very worried about whether my uncle's daughter is mentally prepared to accept this sudden bad news, and how my uncle's elderly parents will face the white-headed man and the black-headed man again. After all, they have already experienced it once.

I'm also thinking that maybe my uncle doesn't understand at this moment that he has been stopped by death and will never be able to go home.

Perhaps he was not blessed by the god of luck at that time, did not receive first aid in time, and so on. I can't imagine it, it's very sad to think that his family arrived at the crime scene only to see him dead in the driver's seat.

If you could predict when and why you would die, would you be willing to know? Do you have the courage to accept it?

If there is a predictable departure, perhaps it will be more comforting to myself and my family, or will it be more pleasant to leave casually?

I do think that maybe my dad really loves us so much that he chooses to leave gracefully, so that we don't need to face the pressure and fatigue of long-term caregivers. He should not drag us down, with his stubborn character, whether he can accept himself if he is successfully rescued and becomes a vegetative person.

We talked in the morning that maybe a vegetative person would want to end his life sooner than anyone else. The feeling of life is worse than death is very tormenting.

I often think that for the departure of the long-term seriously ill, the family members have also made psychological preparations at any time. Eliminating the filial piety and unfilial piety that is kidnapped by morality, for the long-term caregiver, it is not only the liberation of the patient, but also their liberation.

I used to be a caregiver for a seriously ill patient, my ex-parent, who was exhausted for four months. I am taking a break from work to take care of him full time (his family instructed me to do so). At that time, there was no day or month, I was in a foreign country, and I had no family to accompany me.

My former father-in-law was very kind to me and loved me very much, and I am also very distressed about what happened to him. He was the first elder I verified from the time of his illness until his death. Sometimes I find it ironic that I didn't take care of my father so wholeheartedly (because there's no chance, my father doesn't bother us), while I take care of other people's fathers wholeheartedly. Instead, they will be blamed for not doing well enough. This is indeed the bitterness and grievance of the long-term caregivers.

Last night, I just finished reading "Hello, I'm a Receptionist" by the senior brother. I really read it, I laughed while reading it, but I cried again while reading it. Since my family is engaged in funeral service, I feel especially when I read Big Brother's book, and many of the stories make me feel as if I were there myself. It's just that the funeral service in Taiwan is different from the procedure in Malaysia. We are here and the funeral service provider has the sole discretion to deal with it.

There is no public sacrifice, so I often say that if you don’t have money, don’t get sick, and if you don’t have money, don’t die because death will cost you a fee. Reading Big Brother's story brought back memories of my experience working for my dad at the time. What impresses me the most and is the saddest is a security grandpa who has been dead for a long time and has not been found. My dad was entrusted by the employers of these grandpas to handle the funeral.

At that time, I remember the employer said that he only limited the budget of RM3,000, and it was easy to deal with it. Employers are actually very meritorious. The story is that the old grandfather did not go to work for many days, and his colleagues went to the dormitory to look for him out of curiosity, only to look into the house from the window, and found that he had died violently at home. We have to contact the hospital to go through the formalities of taking the body. There are no pickers here. What we usually refer to here as a 'car corpse' is the transport of the body from the hospital morgue (freezer) to the funeral home or home.

The old man is helpless, but fortunately, he has the help of this conscientious employer. My dad's philosophy is that the poor will also help them to complete the last journey, and make merit even if they don't make money. I still remember when my dad took me, my younger brother and a coffin to SUNGAI BAKAP (a community on the other side of us) to the car body. It was a small hospital in the community. I remember only two morgues. My dad and my brother ordered me to wait outside because the body was decomposing, smelly and worms. I'm timid, they're afraid I'll be scared out of my wits.

At that time my dad and my brother put the body directly into the coffin. (Even the body bag is also put into the coffin). Once that's done, we'll set off. My dad drove the coffin car, I was in the passenger seat, and my brother was in the back with the coffin. Along the way, it was the sound of the Buddha's trumpet in the audio machine that accompanied the old man back to Penang. In fact, at that time we could all smell the stench of corpses, but we had to respect the deceased so we behaved naturally.

Since the crematorium was full at the time, my dad had to help my grandfather's coffin be parked in the old funeral home for one night. It really smells so good in there, I'm going to be horrified. The grandfather's sister and niece only came to offer incense, and after the cremation, the grandfather's ashes were sprinkled into the sea. Because no descendants will worship.

I often wonder if I have a baby so that someone will die or worship for us in the future? When I was a child, sometimes I could not sleep at night because I was afraid that I would not be able to wake up the next day (long sleep) I don’t know why I was so young I would have concerns about this.

So if I don't have children in my life, will someone help me with my funeral when I leave one day? But I hope I can leave in a dashing manner because I don't want to burden anyone, especially my family. I don't want to make them work hard.

Life is really impermanent and short. We must live every day as our last.

I am a person who has the courage to speak out my love. I'm not shy and I don't think true love is unspoken. Instead, I was afraid that one day I would suddenly leave. The people I love don't understand how much I love them.

This is the magic of words, and sometimes the emotions we cannot express can only be expressed in words.

I love my family, I love my old man, and I love all the people around me who are kind to me.

I hope that one day, when I leave, you can all remember my goodness.