Daydream » VKook

[8] Acceptance

"Sweetheart, please straighten up your tie. You know how meticulous your father was about that."

I did what I was told. I usually hated those minuscule details, but it was one of those days that I wanted them to count.

I got discharged from the hospital about a week ago. One would be glad to get out to a normal life, however, my life wasn't so normal anymore. I was color-blinded, physically still recovering and now I had lost my father.

Today was the beginning of his funeral service. Traditionally, we were supposed to have it immediately after my father's passing, but my mother delayed it a couple of weeks after the accident. At the time, she wasn't sure if or when I would wake up from my coma. Maybe she wanted to wait and see how long she could withhold the news from me. Which was honestly a cruel thing to do. But I didn't want those kinds of anger spread during my father's service.

Because I was his first and only son, I was the chief mourner. I was the one to prepare the funeral arrangements and greet all mourners for the next three days. But I was only a kid that just came out of the hospital with zero ideas of how this was all supposed to work out. Thankfully, my mother helped and guided me through all of the necessary traditions. Quite frankly, she was the one that planned the whole thing anyway, especially sending out the announcements since I didn't know exactly who my father knew.

I was left with picking out a photo for the altar and setting up the flowers and food that we began to receive. It took me two days to find a good photo of my father because he rarely got his photo taken. After going through photo albums and boxes of old photos, I came by one group photo of him and his kendo society members. It looked like everyone was posed for a class photo dated back almost ten years ago. I saw my father standing on the side with a light smile on his face. This was possibly the best picture I found, so I grabbed my laptop to scan and crop the image of my father. I sent the file to the nearest photo center and had it printed out on a nice gloss paper.

I framed my father's photo in a decoratively carved wooden frame and placed it on the altar. I gathered all of the single white flowers and put them in a vase for the mourners as a final touch. I took a couple of steps back to view the entire altar and it looked perfect. With funerals only having black and white colors, it made me feel a bit more at ease to cope with my color-blindness. 

My mother came into the room and took a look at the altar. She smiled softly but immediately started to cry onto my chest.

"Umma... what's wrong?" I asked with concern. "Did I do something wrong with the altar?"

"No, my son..." She calmly said. "Everything looks good. These next few days are going to take a toll on us, so I just want to make sure you are prepared."

"Don't worry, umma. I'll be fine. Everything will be fine."

My mother wiped the remaining tears on her face, then handed me a white band with two black stripes. "Here, this is for you. Put this on your left arm."

I held out my left arm for my mother to help pin the band onto my black suit. I stared at it, thinking that this was becoming official now—having to mourn for my father being taken away from his life too early. And I couldn't help, but feel that somehow it was all my fault.

The funeral service had just begun. My mother and I stood to the side of the room and waited for the mourners to arrive. In the first couple of hours, our closest relatives came to pay their respects. There were even a few relatives that I hadn't seen since I was a little child. There was my father's eldest brother with whom my father hadn't spoken to in years due to a falling out I was too young to understand. I watched him as he placed a white flower onto the altar and bowed two times. I kept my head down and then heard loud sobbing from him. It is believed that the louder one cried at mourning, it showed the level of love and dedication to the deceased. Although my uncle hadn't spoken to my father in years, he was still a brother to him and honorably paid his respects.