100 days of mourning my parents

The feelings I felt and the words I didn't speak... during the 100 days and nights I stayed by my parents altar...

When my dad passed away on 8th December 2020, we were in lockdown in the UK. I stayed at the family home with my mum, my sister, my brother, my niece and nephew, and we all mourned together.

We had to burn incense continuously, day and night, until the funeral, which took place four weeks after my dad passed away. After the funeral, we no longer needed to keep the incense burning constantly. But we wanted to continue showing filial piety by offering three meals a day and burning incense at my dad’s altar.

At that time, I remember trying to stay strong for my mum and not letting her see me cry. After the 49 days of rituals, I continued staying with her for the full 100 days. After that, I packed away some of my dad’s clothes for my memory box and went back to my own home, although I still visited my mum and stayed over every weekend.

My siblings and I had always talked about how we would look after our parents when they got older, but we never imagined losing our dad so young. He was only 65.

Spiritual Awakening

It was the first time in my life that the thought of death really frightened me. I started reading about Taoism, Buddhism, human existence, and life after death.

Losing my dad was what started my spiritual awakening. It made me want to understand more about the Taoist and Buddhist views of the life cycle.

Since my dad passed away, it has changed me as a person. It changed how I saw the world and how I lived my life. Things that used to bother me no longer mattered in the same way. I became calmer. I accepted more. I looked forward to my weekends with my mum.

When my dad passed away, we were able to say our final goodbyes, and his last wishes were for us to look after mum and to look after each other.

So it was never just about my own grief. I always thought about how my mum must have been feeling too. After dad passed away, she could only sleep with the lights on. She would always call to ask when I was coming, even though she already knew I would be there on Friday. Sometimes she would call during the week to say she felt lonely if my brother and the children were not home.

At the time, I don’t think I fully understood just how lonely she really felt.

My mum had changed too. I remember her saying that she wanted to enjoy the rest of her life, to be happy and healthy. We even talked about taking a family trip to Japan once restrictions eased.

I knew what I had to do. I was following my path, accepting that when someone’s time comes, we cannot stop it. I was spending time with my mum, trying to repay even a small amount of the love she had always given me, and trying to make her smile.

But I lost sight of that path when I lost my mum on 1st November 2021.

Filial Piety

In Confucianism, Chinese Buddhism and Taoist ethics, filial piety is the virtue of showing respect to one’s parents, elders and ancestors. It is something I have always lived by.

When my mum passed away, I felt completely lost. I felt like I had lost my purpose. I loved my parents so much, and so much of my life was spent trying to make them happy and proud. The pain I felt was so deep that it ran through my heart, my blood, my bones. In those moments, it felt like nothing else mattered anymore.

But deep down, I also know that no parent would ever want their child to stop living. They would want us to live a long and happy life.

During those 100 days of mourning, I felt so many things, and a lot of those feelings I never shared with anyone. Not even with my siblings.

Angry

I was angry that we didn’t check on mum earlier. If we had noticed something was wrong just a day sooner, or found her unconscious earlier, would things have been different?

I was angry at people’s attitudes towards Covid-19. My mum died from it. I didn’t understand what more people needed to believe before they accepted how serious it could be.

I was angry that I’m not the eldest son. I’m the one who knows the rituals, the dates and the customs, but the ancestral altar is traditionally kept by the eldest son. If it had been in my home, I would have burned incense every single day. Maybe that was selfish, but it felt like the only way I knew how to cope - by continuing to honour and remember my parents.

I was angry at the path life had given them. It felt so cruel that both of them were taken so young.

And I was angry that my mum passed away on the one weekend I couldn’t stay with her because she was self-isolating.

Annoyed

I was annoyed by things that probably wouldn’t normally bother me.

During the 100 days of mourning, I felt like the house should have been quieter, more respectful. Even hearing laughter from the next room would upset me. Looking back, I know I was being consumed by my own grief, but at the time it irritated me.

I was also annoyed that, after my mum’s funeral, it felt like life was moving on around me. I know now that everyone was grieving in their own way, but because I was still at the family home offering three meals a day and lighting incense, it sometimes felt like I was the only one still fully sitting in that grief.

I remember having an outburst after the funeral and saying that I didn’t know how I was supposed to carry on. My siblings all had their own families and children, and I felt like they had a distraction during that period, while I didn’t.

I was also annoyed when people would place food on the altar or light incense while talking on the phone or being distracted. I kept thinking that if my parents were still alive, they would never have accepted that kind of carelessness.

Lonely

After 60 days, my second-youngest sister went back to her own home because she had to return to work. I felt incredibly lonely.

Each morning I would get up, make breakfast for my parents’ altar, and light incense before starting work from home. At lunchtime, I would do the same again. The house was silent, apart from the sound of Buddhist chants playing by the altar.

I found it difficult to talk to anyone. I have really good friends who checked in on me, but I still felt lonely. When I spoke to people who knew what I was going through, it felt like they couldn’t laugh because of me. And when I spoke to people who didn’t know, I couldn’t laugh with them. In the end, I found myself talking most to people who had also lost their parents. But even then, grief still feels like something you have to carry on your own.

I also felt that maybe I was the only one putting so much care into preparing food for my parents’ altar. I would make sure the cup handles were facing the right way, the chopsticks were placed properly, and I even unlocked my parents’ phones and placed them by the altar during meal times so they could “use” them.

After all, they prepared meals for us three times a day from birth to adulthood. What is 100 days compared to that? It felt like we were only repaying 1% of what they had given us.

I wanted to do it properly. But it also felt very lonely. I didn’t really talk about those feelings at the time. It was all very quiet.

Sorry

I felt so sorry for my mum. She didn’t know she was dying. She didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, to give us one last hug or kiss, or to tell us her final wishes.

I felt sorry that we weren’t there with her before she lost consciousness. Was she in pain? Was she sad? Was she scared? Those thoughts still stay with me.

I felt sorry that we couldn’t keep the promise we made to my dad to look after mum. It hadn’t even been a year since dad passed away, and then mum was gone too.

I also felt sorry that my mum couldn’t be here for my dad’s one-year death anniversary. After one year of mourning, my dad was meant to be ascended to the ancestral altar, where he would join the ancestors and share the same incense pot. My mum had always felt a responsibility to make sure that was done properly.

But one month before my dad’s ascension, my mum passed away.

That meant my dad would have to wait another year, and in the end, they would be ascended together.

Sad

I felt sad knowing I will never see my parents again in this life.

Sad that I will never hear them laugh and joke again.

Sad that I can no longer spoil them with gifts.

Sad that I can no longer hold their hands or link arms with them.

Sad that I can no longer travel the world with them and make new memories.

Sad that they won’t get to watch their beloved grandchildren grow up.

Sad that I no longer receive messages or calls from mum and dad.

Regret

The day before my mum passed away, on Sunday 31st October, I remember it was around 7.30pm. I was having a slice of pizza when I looked at my phone and wondered why she hadn’t messaged me. She usually messaged me on Sundays.

I regret not calling her then.

Later, I found out that around that same time, the last message she sent to a friend was to say she wasn’t feeling well and was going to sleep.

That moment has stayed with me.

Happy

Even through all of this, I also felt grateful.

I felt grateful for my siblings. We helped each other through the mourning period, and we all did the best we could with what we were facing.

When I look back at our childhood and the bond we share as a family, nothing compares to the happiness we had. We had such a beautiful childhood, and the bond between us can never be broken. As adults, we gave our parents as much love and happiness as we possibly could, just as they had always given to us.

My big sister took home all the old VHS tapes and converted them into digital copies. It was so lovely seeing clips we hadn’t watched in years. She also took all the photo albums home, reorganised them in date order, and started scanning them so we could all have digital copies.

Those memories mean everything to us.

Spiritual Awakening continued...

At one point, I even started looking into long-term monastery stays. I felt ready to devote the rest of my life to Buddhism, to spend my life praying for my parents, helping them gain merit, and somehow proving that they were good parents who deserved peace in the afterlife.

Since my dad passed away, I started having dreams that felt like out-of-body experiences. In those dreams, I knew exactly what was happening, but I always knew I had to return to my body and continue living, so I did. Then, after my mum passed away, those dreams started again.

I also became much more interested in Chinese customs and traditions, and I spent a lot of time reading, learning, and sharing what I found with the rest of my family. I’ve had so many conversations with relatives about how, with each generation, some traditions slowly begin to fade.

Even though I still have my bad days, I also have a sense of peace now. I find comfort in understanding the endless cycle of rebirth and in believing that our paths are already laid out for us.

Fitting back into society

Going back out into the world felt strange.

On 4th January 2022, I went back to the gym. Being surrounded by so many people and so much noise made me feel dizzy. I put my earphones in, did an hour workout, and left.

Outside, it was already pitch black. As I walked home, it was quiet apart from the sound of my own breathing. It felt lonely, but peaceful too, and I found myself crying as I walked. All I could think was, I miss my parents.

Even simple things like going to the shops started making me feel anxious. I didn’t want to bump into anyone I knew because I didn’t know what I would say. I’ve always been sociable, but during that time I felt like a hermit. I just wanted to be left alone.

Losing my parents has changed me. I’m no longer the social butterfly I once was. Part of me just wants to shut myself away and live quietly. There is so much emotion in the world, and sometimes it feels too noisy. The noise gives me a headache. It makes it hard to think.

I’ve been really bad at keeping in touch with friends during this mourning period, but I’ve also been blessed with some truly kind friends who have understood and supported me. I hope that one day I will feel like myself again.

Back in the office

When work-from-home rules relaxed, my company needed us back in the office two days a week from February 2022. But there were still just under two weeks left of the 100 days.

I spoke to my family about it, but in the end I made it work by taking half days. I would serve my parents breakfast at the altar at 6am and leave the house at 7am, once the incense had finished burning.

Then I would work from 8am until midday and get home by 1pm to serve lunch, followed later by dinner.

I’m a morning person, so waking up at 5.30am wasn’t the difficult part. My parents never once complained about being tired when they were raising us, so why should I? If anything, I still wish I could have done more for them.

Mums Birthday

On my mum’s birthday, I started the morning by preparing an English breakfast for both mum and dad. In the afternoon, I put together a birthday platter and some food, then met my siblings at the cemetery. We offered prayers, incense and joss paper, and then shared cake together.

In the evening, I prepared a similar birthday meal again at the altar, along with my mum’s favourite mango smoothie.

Dads Birthday

Mum and dads Birthday's are very close together and so I prepare a seafood feast for dad at the cemetery and met my siblings at the cemetery. Just like mums Birthday we offered our prayers, incense, joss offerings finishing with enjoying some cake together, the Rainbow then appeared :). Again I prepared a seafood feast for the altar dinner.

Chinese New Year

Another Chinese new year where our family are in mourning. I had created a blog post last CNY "Chinese New Year in the UK" as I didn't want to lose the traditions and customs we had to follow. So I referred back to my post to prepare for Chinese New Year this year.

To be honest I was feeling really sad; I have sent various posts from this blog to my siblings but none of them read my posts. Maybe one day when I am no longer here they will read it then. It feels like they rely on me to tell them what we need to do as it's easier to let someone else do it and tell you what to do than learn it yourself.

100 days

As we prepare a feast for my mum; she would be attending her 8th court today.

It seems like I only see my siblings when we go to the cemetery... Is this how it will be going forward? without mum and dad here, will we lose that family bond?

Everyone is so busy with their lives, it's hard to sit back and think about life passing us by...

We all get together today and help prepare the offerings for the day, teaching my niece and nephew how to fold the joss money. We light the incense at the front door and call for mum to come home for a meal and then burning the joss offerings just before the red candles burn out. It's always nice spending time with my family.. I hope we continue to catch up more.

During these 100 days and nights, a total of 1,764 incense were burned, 900 meals offered and over 2,400 hours of white candles.

I had been sleeping on the sofa in the living room by my parents altar for 100 days and today I will move back to my own home.

I hope by showing my commitment and dedication during this mourning period that the Gods will see my filial piety which proves that my parents deserve the best judgment in their afterlife. I wish I could do more for them...

If I had one wish... I wish that we'd meet in my next life as them being my parents again. I'd give them all the love I did in this life all over again.

Until we meet again I promise to live a happy life Mum and Dad xxx