Jane Vejjajiva (7 page)

It was hard to believe that tomorrow the sun would rise as usual.

Mother had been running a temperature for a number of days now. Dr Pradit’s face was always serious when he left Sea-view Villa. Aunt Da said that the doctor wanted Mother to rest up in the hospital, whether the local one in Hua Hin or one of the big city hospitals back in Bangkok.

‘Even an elephant from Chopstick Mountain couldn’t drag her away from Kati,’ said Uncle Dong and his voice was shrill.

The day before, Uncle Dong had taken Kati to Chopstick Mountain. They’d admired the view from the top, where you could look down and see the little white house off in the distance. At the foot of the

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mountain you could have a ride on an elephant. Uncle Dong had complained high and low that having elephants at the seaside was totally inappropriate and out of place. There were only a few customers lining up for rides. They were all foreign tourists.

‘The mahouts are probably planning to drag them off to the forest and rob them, I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Uncle Dong.

Uncle Kunn whispered to Kati that it was just as well Uncle Dong didn’t work in the tourist industry or he’d have lost the country billions with his mistrust of small business. Uncle Dong must have caught something of this because he went on for some time about how they could hardly be called
small
businesses when elephants were involved.

The thing Mother most wanted to avoid was being on a respirator, a machine which would do her breathing for her. Her gaze was strong and determined when she said this and those who loved her could only agree. Mother said she was lucky that she could choose for herself the way in which she would die. People couldn’t choose to be born and couldn’t choose to die, but she asked for the right to make the most of the last opportunities life afforded her. She asked them not to obstruct her in this wish.

Kati had seen them all clustered together many times, discussing the ways and means to grant Mother’s wish. This time they organised a mobile meeting, using the excuse that they had to take Kati out for a drive. Grandma said she’d stay and watch over Mother herself. Grandpa said that was just as well as he was bound to disagree with whatever she might suggest. Grandma flicked him a glance and said that it was a waste of time to argue with a hot-shot lawyer anyway.

The drive ended in a grove of sea pines. The trees stood tall and sturdy, their straight trunks and growth giving deep shade. Grandpa said they were a good windbreak because they bent with the wind instead of resisting it. Even the mightiest storm could not

break them.

group therapy for the grieving. The future was blazingly clear. Mother was like a candle whose light had begun to flicker and fade.

That night Kati woke in the middle of the night. She felt something peculiar in her heart, and thought of Mother’s words to her when they were sitting watching the sunset together. Mother had said she didn’t want the sky to grow dark.

Kati tiptoed down the stairs to the little house. Uncle Kunn was sitting beside Mother’s bed. He was the one person Kati had never seen expressing grief or shedding tears, but in the dim light of the sick room Kati could see his shoulders shaking with sobs. Finally Kati saw Uncle Kunn throw himself down beside Mother and stay like that for a long time.

There was no movement or flicker of recognition from the face on which the BiPAP mask rested.

Only the thinnest crescent of a moon was left in

the sky. The shadows of the sea pines along the fence

swayed with the breeze. Time seemed to stand still.

It stayed that way till the sun rose in the sky once

more, bright and beautiful above the rim of the sea,

awakening all creatures on earth. All except

for Mother, who would never waken again.

Grief beyond tears.

Mother was in a coma for three days before she left them, peacefully. Aunt Da was the first to emerge from the room. She held Kati in a tight embrace. There was no need to speak. She shed no tears that you could see. Her eyes were dry and she looked as if she had changed overnight.

Mother donated her body to the hospital, so the funeral rites were only three days long. Grandpa chose a temple on the mountain that had a spacious worship hall. It was an open structure with overhanging eaves, a polished wooden floor, and no walls or furniture. At one end was the main Buddha image and chairs were set out in rows for guests. Uncle Dong was the host for the funeral ceremonies. In the evening, guests arrived one after the other to pay their respects: colleagues, student friends, and even clients. Grandpa was concerned for the guests who’d had to travel such a long way to get there. But they were glad to come and make their last farewells to Mother.

The steps from the hall stretched away down the hill. Uncle Dong had set up white poles at intervals decorated with colourful bouquets of flowers, and had placed little candle-lit lamps on each step. The scent of the flowers, the night breeze and the candlelight created an atmosphere far from sorrowful. Uncle Dong said Mother had left instructions to do all this, for she wanted them to come together and remember past times together in peace and quiet.

The worship hall was decorated with swathes of ivory-coloured cloth and bright flowers. Kati liked the framed photo on the stand the most: Mother looked so lively, as if she was enjoying being there to look after her guests. She must have escaped the prison that her body had become, and now her spirit was free to go anywhere she liked, wherever her heart desired. Kati was quite certain that one place Mother’s spirit would want to be was right beside her.

Aunt Da had gathered her hair into a tiny bun; the bangles that always covered her lower arm disappeared and all that was left were her tiny pearl earrings. Aunt Da’s clothes were usually an entertainment in themselves. She was fond of draping herself with scarves and pieces of cloth and whatever she put on looked attractive. The black clothes she now wore made her look unusually thin and pale. Kati saw Uncle Kunn’s gaze rest on her with concern as he looked over to where she was greeting the funeral guests and taking care of their drinks and snacks, as well as the offerings they had brought for the monks.

Uncle Kunn had been sticking to Kati like her own shadow. The two of them had no particular tasks in organising the funeral ceremonies, so, hand in hand, they slipped away to sit outside on the stone benches under a trellis arch of bougainvillea. They listened to the symphony of sounds around them. It seemed the lead part was taken by cicadas, and their constant chorus managed to achieve a certain harmony with the heavy night air, creating an atmosphere that Kati felt privileged to be part of. Normally she would never have been allowed to sit out so late.

By the time the last guests made their farewells and departed, the little lamps had burned very low. Uncle Dong took Grandpa and Grandma home to the beach house. Grandma’s stillness made Kati wary of approaching her, and Grandpa exchanged glances with Kati. He wanted her to know Grandma needed all his attention just now and that it would help if Kati came home later with Uncle Kunn and Aunt Da.

Aunt Da knelt and bowed low to the floor before the Buddha. She sat before the big framed photograph of Mother for such a long time that Uncle Kunn motioned to Kati to go and sit beside her. Kati met Mother’s eyes in the picture and it seemed that she understood very well what Mother wanted from her.

Kati led Aunt Da by the hand out of the temple hall along with Uncle Kunn. The three of them walked quietly down the steps. Kati was holding Aunt Da’s hand on one side and Uncle Kunn’s hand on the other. She placed Aunt Da’s hand in Uncle Kunn’s strong grip. Surely, strength and warmth would flow from his big hand into her little thin one. For an instant Kati saw the colour that had faded from Aunt Da’s cheeks appear again. Mother would have been pleased with the picture they made, a picture whose soundtrack was the chirping of the cicadas in the night.

Life…goes on.

Tong came with his uncle, the abbot, in time for the last day of the chanting. They’d brought a lot of luggage, and the abbot said they would be leaving for the airport from the funeral. His followers had invited him to travel all the way to America as their guest. So the abbot thought he would take Tong along too to see the world and maybe find a way to complete his studies there as well.

‘I won’t go there to study now,’ Tong told Kati. ‘I’d rather sit the scholarship exam after I finish Year 12.’

That was several years away. Kati knew Tong’s dream was to have a business card that read
Suwan (Tong) Winaidee PhD
. Uncle Dong said if Tong could make that dream come true he was a white elephant with black tusks, a rare beast indeed.

Mother had said we need a dream to try to make each day better than the last. Kati couldn’t think what her dream was, but today was a better day since Tong was here at the seaside with her, even though she had just lost the person she loved the most.

The leadwort blossomed over the fence. You could see the blooms, mauve against the clean white palings. Uncle Dong said there was a spell you could say to make them blossom on demand, but his magic must have lost its power because Mother never saw the leadwort flowering as she had wanted. The showy blossoms had appeared the very day that Mother had left them all. Uncle Dong blamed the rain. Usually the leadwort flowered thirty days after pruning, but the rain had delayed the flowers and Mother had missed out on its floral beauty.

Kati sat and admired the flowers in Mother’s stead. There were many things in life that Kati didn’t understand. Death was one of them. Tong said you had to find comfort in the Buddha’s teaching, and

when Kati was older she would understand it all for

herself. To understand all this she’d have to be a lot older than he was now, he concluded with a lame smile.

The goods in the house were gradually being packed up and stored in boxes. Nurse Wannee would go back to Bangkok tomorrow with Tong and his uncle. Uncle Dong would take Grandpa and Grandma home to the house on the water and then meet up with Kati in Mother’s home in the city.

As for Kati, she would journey on to find the missing piece in the puzzle of her life.