Let's start at the very beginning...
William on the way there.
Cindy drinking some refreshing 水.
Aunt Judy and Uncle Percy (don't really know what they're looking at).
The day after I got there, it was off to the funeral home we go! More like... funeral factory... the place used to be a Honda (or other car) dealership, so all the funerals and wakes were in little stalls. We had quite a large stall . . .
阿公<3 We started off the day by waking up his spirit and feeding him. My dad announced my arrival to him, as well. As the day rolled on I discovered that it is the job of the sons (or grandsons) to announce the arrivals of visitors to Grandpa and to light a stick of incense for each visitor for them to show their respect. I'm not religious in any sort of way, but I kind of like it. The paying the respect part, that is.
Rest in peace, grandpa. I know you're out there watching out for me. Take care of yourself.
A large bouquet from the last election's presidential candidate, Frank Hsieh (he's a family friend . . . somehow my family in Taiwan has all these political connections. It's weird when, at the funeral, all of the politicians came in one by one to pay their respects - especially because my grandfather was apparently friends with both the DPP and the KMT sides, which meant a
lot of relatively important people came by).
Did you know, according to Buddhist tradition, men are not supposed to shave while in mourning? So I arrived in Taiwan to find all my older male relatives (aka, my dad, see above) looking horrifically scruffy. Haha. See, Jon? This is what you looked like last time we were in Taiwan. Except worse, because I think my dad and Uncle John might actually be able to grow more hair than you. Hahaha!
Case in point? Uncle John the scruffmeister and Buddhism teacher extraordinaire. Uncle John is our resident "crazy uncle" (in the best possible way - without him I don't think I'd know how to play mahjongg or love to sing karaoke). He's not religious, and it was clear from his attitude that he found many of the traditions and requirements of a traditional and proper funeral to be excessive and unnecessary, but he's a good man and understands the importance of the rituals not only for grandpa but also for everyone who is in mourning. I have great respect for my Uncle. During the days we were sitting around the shrine, waiting for people to arrive to pay their respects, he basically taught everyone in my generation (the "Cousins") about Buddhism while we sat around 阿公's body. Surreal.
Dad outside of the shrine and resting place for 阿公's body.
Another piece of trivia: the eldest son's first son is simultaneously considered the youngest son of the previous generation (
so they're brothers?!), and most of the funeral responsibilities usually will fall on this person. He and his wife are identified by a special cloth wrapped in red that is pinned on the left sleeve. All the other descendants with the family name and their wives also have a identifying cloth pinned to their left sleeve (coarser weave for men, finer weave for the women), but only the grandson has the red marking.
In this case, my Uncle Percy took care of the majority of the funeral arrangements because there really is no way anyone was expecting Jimmy - who grew up in the US and probably knows as much about Taiwanese funerals as I do (that is, squat-diddly) - to really take over such an important event. Or chain of events, shall I say.
I didn't take pictures of all of it, but we sat in rows for days chanting. I arrived with an extra day before the funeral, so I only had one day of chanting, but there are many more days prior to that during which a buddhist monk (male or female - although most of the ones we had were female for some reason) comes and chants and prays.
Jar of incense.
As I said, it was a warehouse.
