The Funeral

    I had received the news of my dear uncle's death on February 21, a Sunday but his death was actually on the 20th because of the time difference between Virginia and Taiwan.  My mother and I flew to the US on the 25th or 26th, the night before his cremation.  At that time we weren't even sure if we would be able to cremate him because doctors pushed around the responsibility of signing my uncle's death certificate.  Had he died at home, in the ambulance or at the hospital?  Did it matter?  It made no difference to me because all I knew was that the person I called "Daddy" wouldn't be able to walk me down the red carpet if I ever got married.
    Early next morning the worker from the cremation center called us with "good news", his death certificate was signed.  When I left the US in 2008, I never thought the next time I saw my uncle he'd be in a casket.  He passed away just a month before he and my aunt were coming to visit me in Taiwan.  The world crumbled the moment I walked into the room.  There he laid at the very end of the room.  Why in the world was he sleeping in a coffin?!  I wanted to wake him up!  None of this had seemed true.  How could my uncle be dead?  I just talked to him on the phone less than two weeks ago to wish him a happy Chinese New Year.  He had joked about me being closer to God because my family and I had moved to the fifteenth floor of an apartment.  This must be a joke.  He couldn't be gone.  How was the planet supposed to keep moving around the sun with this man dead?!  NO!  I wouldn't accept it, he was NOT dead.
    I argued with myself silently until my uncle's best friend pulled out the video camera to record the family sharing the last moments with their beloved husband, father, uncle, grandpa or brother-in-law.  Though I loved him just as much as his son and wife, I felt that I didn't deserve to touch the body in the casket since I was the adopted daughter.  But God heard my cries and I was given the chance to touch his hand.  It was ice cold.  I felt like a stone dropped into my stomach, was he really truly gone?  I turned and looked at my baby nephew.  He was in the secure arms of his daddy but he would never be able to enjoy the arms of his grandpa anymore.
    Friends began coming, most of them former customers of the restaurant.  My uncle had sold the restaurant less than a year ago.  I sat in my seat, trying to sort out my thoughts and using up tissues.  I prayed so many times before I touched the icy hand.  After touching the icy hand I still prayed for a miracle.  I had read so much about people coming back to life at their funerals.  He must wake up before the cremation.  I imagined what I would do if he just opened his eyes and climbed out of the coffin.  I would shut my eyes to pray, open them to check for progress, shut my eyes again, then open them once more.  I did that for two hours.  Every time my aunt kissed his body, I thought I saw him move but turns out it was just because she hugged him too hard.  My aunt kept kissing him as if she thought Sleeping Beauty was not just a fairy tale.
    I wanted to slap Rachel when she walked in.
    "The cremation is ready, so let me know when you are ready."
    I wanted to jump from my seat and yell at him.  I wanted to yell into his ears, "WAKE UP!"
    They closed the casket and I could hear the shatter of my aunt's heart.  I could feel my own.  We pushed the casket into the cremation room everyone who had stopped crying earlier started crying again.  Everything was blurry and in slow motion as the workers from the cremation center lifted the casket and pushed it into the cremation machine.  They shut the door and what kind of a unthoughtful person Rachel was to ask my cousin/ brother to START the machine.  He was reluctant but he pushed the button.  At the first roar of the fire my aunt's feet turned into spaghetti as she fell the arms of three people behind her.  I thought she would faint when we put her into the armchair but she kept crying and yelling.  
    "How could you leave me?  How could you?  What am I to do without you?" She kept saying to the cremation machine, her voice barely a whisper.  


    I never would have survived and be able to live after my uncle's death had God not helped me.