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I could not breathe. The air around me was heavy and the sounds of people crying and whispering added to the already tense atmosphere. Today was the fifth of April; my birthday and the day my mother died.
Since I was a child, many adults and teachers had taught me that graveyards were where the deceased were laid to rest and comic books had taught the terrifying stories about zombies rising from the ground or how people who disturbed their peace were haunted by them until they were forgiven. I never truly had an opinion on graveyards until I went there for the first time in my lifetime.
My mother had always been by my side since I was born and she was the person I inspired to be when I grew up. Despite being very sickly, she was an extremely altruistic person and would always help those in need, she also advocated for the distribution of medicine in low-income areas and minority-filled communities. I love my mother very dearly so when I came to my father slumped over with a gloomy look on his face, I was confused. After he signaled for me to sit in front of him, he then sat up straight and broke the news to me.
The graveyard was a small one which, according to my father, was where all my ancestors were buried. It was unlike the dark, gloomy depictions in comic books and in the illustrated videos my teachers had shown me. The place seemed peaceful, flowers could be seen sprouting out in every direction from the ground and most of the tombs were well kept. The funeral was a small one with aunts, uncles, grandparents and my father and I. Unlike the rest of my family members, I just stared blankly at the picture of my mother's soft smile. She seemed at peace with herself, maybe proud that she managed to make a change. There was a melancholic feeling alongside a chilling ache in my heart yet, I did not cry that day and I did not understand why. Was it because my mother had such a delightful expression? Before I could think of a reason, my dad suggested we go celebrate my birthday afterwards.
"Let’s go, I have a surprise for you." my father whispered gently as he patted my head before taking me to a nice restaurant. The celebration was a surprising one as all my friends were invited there, apparently my father had originally planned this for my sweet 16, the part where my mother died was completely unexpected.. Laughter filled the air and even though it was the best party I had at the time, a cold feeling suffocated me as my friends talked about the latest news. That was when I realised that from now onwards, I needed to be used to my mother not being here on this special day, “are you ok?” One of my friends asked, then I felt tears rolling down my cheek and the sharp ringing in my ears. In response, I just giggled hard and replied “this has to be the best birthday ever!”
A few years went by and the two of us got used to living without her. Despite that, I sometimes felt myself drawn to the graveyard.
Today on the same day she died, I went there again to visit her. At this point I was nearly an adult and more mature in my thinking. I placed her favourite flowers next to her grave before cleaning the tomb. Graveyards are supposed to be terrifying and dying was meant to be scary or a tragedy, yet, I sat by my mother's grave and told her about my life. The warm atmosphere made it feel as if she was still there with me, listening to my sorrows and joys. This graveyard was the place many former family members now rest, this place would usually sound daunting or filled people's minds with dread but this place to me is where they can rest after a hard and fulfilling life.
Even now as I have become an adult, my feelings about death and graveyard have not changed. Death is unavoidable and all the living will eventually end up in the same place as the many people before me. Sometimes I would still wonder, if there was truly a paradise out there, would my ancestors and I be able to reach it? That does not really matter, all I hope is that when I die, I will be buried next to my mother that I love so much.