Day 3.

“There’s been a death in the house.”

I remember reading a poem by Emily Dickinson when I was about 17. It talked of the sombre-ness of the situation, the seriousness of the entire affair, the tears that come along with it.

Day 3 of my holiday here on my spontaneous trip. Several things have happened as of late that will probably remain in my mind during the remnants of my life.

1. I lost my phone. It disappeared somewhere between stepping on the plane and stepping off the plane on my trip. Michelle is understandably upset at my absent-mindedness and has been chattering away about my apparent lack of concern that I just lost my phone. Now, my take? I’ve been wanting a new phone anyway. Now might be a good idea.

2. This trip was supposed to be me and Michelle, me spending 2 weeks of uninterrupted bliss and happiness to see how we would work together as a couple. Perhaps, the Big Man upstairs took it a step too far.

Shortly before I was to fly, Michelle’s grandmother had a stroke. The prognosis was poor, she was unconscious. All the usual signs of a good recovery were pretty much absent. No alertness, incontinence, in a coma, flaccidity, a raging chest infection, dysphagia. It didn’t paint a pretty picture.

And I flew in right smack dab in the middle of the family emergency.

Desperate phone calls back and forth between various family members and Michelle and the next thing I knew, we had paid RM100 for a taxi from town to the airport. And then a cool grand for the two of us to book a last minute ticket.

I had RM1600 in my wallet to start off with. I had estimated that this would probably buy us several days of luxury over the weekend before my emergency fund of another $3000 kicked in. Today is Sunday. We had additionally another RM750 from Michelle that tided me over but we were SERIOUSLY running low.

So much for luxury holiday.

And with over night events, Michelle’s grandmother passed away last night. Family gathered around and wept, hands folded and clasped in prayer. A Buddhist chant of “Amitabha” played on loop. Michelle stayed back for a midnight vigil to “farewell the soul” while I konked out back at the hotel that we booked for the night.

I think I remembered reading somewhere that it is always the best laid plans that go awry. Unfortunately, I can’t claim that this holiday was well planned. To be honest, this holiday was the most chaotic that I’ve ever had. Throw in a family death, instant on-the-spot travel plans that have pretty much drained me dry and I am kind of stuck, hands tied to a holiday that isn’t quite my cup of tea. But as Michelle says, “Its an experience.” And it is. How many people can come back from a holiday and say that they’ve witnessed an entire Buddhist funeral ritual from commencement of death to the burial. Not many. If any.

To be continued…