Tears.
I looked at my Grandma in the coffin for the first time. She was unusually pale - even in the realm of dead people, and what struck me about her was her smile. I kept looking and I started crying, thinking of all the memories I had with her.
She was always the one who cooked for us… and up until now, I don’t think anyone has ever topped her Nilaga and Kare-kare. She always brought sunshine in the room, and even when she was stuck in her bed for the last months of her life, she never failed to offer a smile.
Her smile in that coffin was different. Then she breathed. Then she adjusted her position in the coffin - and that completely threw me off guard. What was happening? She opened her eyes and talked to me.
I don’t remember being scared, and I don’t remember her saying anything. What I remember is feeling as though I was being beckoned to get closer to her, find out more, be with her in whatever world she was. I was about to lean in, I guess to hug her, when a couple of people held me back.
“It’s not real,” someone told me. “Don’t fall into this. Get back. Get back.” And I was struggling and crying and I guess it wasn’t just tears flowing, it was me wailing and sobbing. My sister was there, and I hugged her.
And I woke up. It was a dream. But my tears were real.
