Tales of Spiritrock

Chapter 5: In Memoriam

Chapter Image: Commission from a friend ( AceFuzzLord )

Sometimes the good people of this world will die for the causes they believe in the most. Time may not always heal the wounds left behind.

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August 18: 2008

"We light this candle in remembrance for Chen-yi; in remembrance of his devotion to a more free world for all." I shyly and softly speak as I light the candle in the center of the table, making sure not to burn any of my panda fur, a tear running down my face. "May his soul be resting in the heavens with his ancestors." In the center of the table is a painting of my son, the last painting ever took of him before he died in the August Eighteenth Wenjie protests in Beijing.

"For this special day we pass around the candle in remembrance of his bravery and courage to stand up for what is right." My daughter grabs the tray the candle is on and passes it around. The only light in this basement room is the candle light as his light the only light we need now to guide us. Above us I can hear the running of little feet, a normally joyous sound to my old, deafened ears. Soon enough the candle reaches me and I set it back down, staring into the flames and silently praying.

"The world is a cruel place where the good often die young." We sit in silence as the candle burns and eventually burns out, leaving us in the dark. I then get up and flip on the light switch. My two daughters and my other son are still seated. So are my three teen grandchildren. "Time does not oft heal a shattered heart. It merely shackles us to the past." With my tears dried out I stare into the painting of my son. Everyone else gets up and stays silent as they all walks upstairs, except Meng, my oldest daughter.

"This never gets easier, even after many years of holding this vigil. Grief and anger directed towards myself still strikes my heart for not stopping him from going to that protest almost twenty years ago. We both lost someone important to us: you a son and me a twin brother. That pain truely never goes away." I can tell she's doing her best to hold back her tears, as much as I tried in silence.

"Let us meet upstairs with everyone else and try to remember him in joyous memories as though he is still here with us." As we're about ready to head up we hear the basement door open.

"Mom, Meng, you might want to come upstairs." My other son tells us this in a rather rash manner. We hurry up as fast as my old bones will allow.  From the kitchen to the living room we go. A broken window and glass fragments all over adorn my view as my other daughter holds a rock covered in paper. "Someone threw this rock through the window. We don't know who, just that there's some paper covering it."

"Then let us see what it says." Meng is quick to want to see what message it beholds to us. The paper is taken off the rock and straightened to the best of our ability. The message is written in putonghua as clear as the stars at night.

Stop holding your vigil or else we'll come for your head next!

"Sigh, such hooligans. I'd rather die knowing I'm doing what is right than stop remembering my son."

"Are you nuts, mom? I don't think they're kidding!" Meng has always been the more caring one between all my children, even with the pain and suffering encasing her heart.

"I have lived a life longer than anybody expected of me and my time is not long left in this world. If I die then it is a sign from a higher being my time is up. I have no say over such formalities."

"Regardless, I better call the Spirit Police..."