Dear Ma

I’m sorry for coming here alone, with this simple bouquet and a single stubby candle to light. They will be bringing in the rest of the candles later and an even bigger, if you can call it that, arrangement of flowers. They will have the cleaning materials too so I didn’t hire the insistent boy who keeps tugging me for cleaning services.

The bouquet, with its pink anthuriums and white chrysanthemums look simple enough but I think you will like it. I picked it up while on the way passing by the church. I feel bad today so I came early and I’m sorry for feeling bad. I know, you don’t need to visit me in my dreams to remind me to stretch my patience. I think you know I’ve stretched it too much. And I’m sorry if I snapped, sometimes at Papa, which I don’t mean to. I know you know that I still respect and love him as a father. But things are different now, it won’t always be the same when you were here. All attempts at being and living normal are futile. I always return to that unbalanced, confused state. But I get by. Times are getting really tougher, which you might see in the conditions we are living now. But I think we’ll get through this, or else, you wouldn’t have left us in peace.

Funny, the guard at the office made me teary-eyed. Before going here, I dropped by the office to iron out some things. We talked about things and came to the topic of your death. Funny how they all are inquisitive, these people. But they are the most worthy of serious conversations. He said I never looked like those people who have got the world on their backs. Now, that’s a good sign, don’t you think?

I am looking around and seeing less people than before. While walking the street, there was less traffic. People are busy perhaps, there are no holidays. Some graves are left unattended lucky to have a single candle lighting it, or a handful of cheaply arranged daisies and chrysanthemums to color their drab outline. People look glum too. I saw the same old woman again one grave next to us but she didn’t manage a smile.

I think I’ll be going now - a drop of rain fell into the book I’m reading. I think they will be here soon. Bye, my prayer and longing remain the same.

Your son.