Sher Wei didn't understand some of the things going on in Uncle Wong's funeral, but she didn't ask Ma to explain them to her. She had given that up after Ma had chased her off, too busy comforting Auntie Khoo. That was okay. Sher Wei could figure them out by herself. She wasn't stupid -- she was a big girl of eight. She wasn't like cousin Fu Yee. She knew Uncle Wong wasn't coming back.Her other cousins -- Uncle Wong and Auntie Khoo's children -- looked funny with straw hats and vests, but she didn't tell them so. She could see how sad they looked. They were trying hard not to look at the coffin, which was difficult to do since there was no way one could avoid looking at the thing. It stood right by the entrance of the house.
A big framed photo of Uncle Wong was propped up next to the coffin, surrounded by lots of pink and yellow chrysanthemums. Sher Wei called them the "funeral flowers." They didn't smell nice.
Her uncle looked serious in the photo. Not like him at all. Sher Wei remembered he used to smile a lot, in photos or in real life, but she figured pictures like that wouldn't be proper to put next to his coffin.
She approached the wooden casket and stood on her toes, peeping in. She had read that dead people looked like they were sleeping, but Uncle Wong never looked like this while he was asleep. He usually rested on his side, stretching out on the sofa so that nobody else could sit down on it. Auntie Khoo used to scold him afterwards for being inconsiderate, but while he was still dozing, she would shush the children and say they musn't disturb their uncle.
He didn't look comfortable lying on his back now, but Sher Wei admitted to herself that right now he couldn't feel anything at all.
She drew away, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell coming from Uncle Wong's body. As much as she liked her uncle, she was glad she wasn't supposed to touch him. Tommy Lu from school once told her that he had to kiss his grandfather's bare feet at his funeral. Neither of them could figure out what that custom was supposed to symbolize. Sher Wei had been relieved when Ma told her not to touch Uncle Wong at all.
The sweet pungence of incense drifted in the air, coming from the joss-sticks standing in front of the ancestral shrine. A small plate of apples and oranges rested there, too, as an offering to spirits.
Which reminded her -- she wanted to help with the burning. She tried to go out back through the kitchen but the house was crowded. Relatives and visitors were inside and outside, chatting noisily and eating lunch. Family members were catching up with brothers and cousins whom they hadn't seen in a while. Visitors were Uncle Wong's colleagues, and were easily recognizable because they weren't Chinese. Uncle Wong had worked outside of Chinatown.
Sher Wei exited the house and went round to the back. She saw an older girl with golden hair there, watching Auntie Lim burn paper money in an old flower pot. Sher Wei frowned, curious, then decided that the girl must be one of Uncle Wong's colleagues' daughter.
She stood next to the golden-haired girl, who looked down at her and smiled. It was a pretty smile. "Hi," the girl said. "What's your name?"
"Sher Wei." Sher Wei squinted against the sun, which cast a bright light over the girl. "What's yours?"
"Lia. You're Buddhist, right?"
Sher Wei looked at her suspiciously. "Yeah, so?"
Lia chuckled. It sounded like tinkly bells. "I think it's fascinating. I'd like to learn more about it. Would you mind teaching me?"
"I guess." Sher Wei eyed Lia's white dress. Black, dark blue, and white were the "allowed" funeral colors, but so far the only other ones in white were Auntie Khoo's children. That was different; their father was the one who had died. That was why they were wearing the straw hats and vests.
Lia nodded at Auntie Lim. "Why is she burning those papers? The ones with golden squares in the center?"
"So that Uncle Wong will have money in heaven." Sher Wei frowned. Auntie Lim was folding the paper money in neat, concise squares before putting them into the pot. Sher Wei preferred to make fancy shapes or triangles so that they would burn in pretty patterns. Or even put the whole paper inside without folding, just so it would take longer to light up.
She wanted to do the burning, but she had a guest to entertain.
"We're also going to send him a Volvo and a three-story mansion," she continued to the girl named Lia, "but we're going to burn those at the temple. Ma wanted to give him a maid too, but Auntie Khoo said she didn't want Uncle Wong to play around with another woman in heaven."
Lia looked surprised, then giggled.
"She was kidding," Sher Wei felt the need to justify. "Uncle Wong would never have a girlfriend. He's too old."
Lia nodded with a straight face, almost sage-like. Then she gestured toward the windows which were all covered with white paper from the inside. "What are those for?"
"I don't know. The mirrors are covered too." Sher Wei traced a pattern on the ground with the toe of her shoe. "I think it's so Uncle Wong's spirit won't be scared to death when he sees his own reflection." She stopped and considered the irony of her words.
"He's still wandering around here, then." Lia glanced around themselves, taking in the noise and smells and sights. She drew in a deep breath, rising on her toes, and slowly sank down as she released that breath. Her fingers wiggled.
Sher Wei stared at the dancing flames in the flower pot. They were going to burn Uncle Wong's body too, later. He was going to be cremated.
She was a big girl. She knew he wasn't coming back.
That didn't mean she didn't want him to.
She blinked away tears before they could form, then put her hand in Lia's and gave a tug. "Want to help me burn the money?"
Lia glanced down at Sher Wei, and her blue eyes softened. "I'd love to."
They made their way towards Auntie Lim. In the distance Sher Wei heard clashing bells and wavering chants approach. The monks were coming to give their blessings.
