Goodbye Mr. Tong

Here is an entry from my journal that I would like to share. It happened over my Christmas Break.

I mentioned earlier that I enjoyed Mr. Tong's funeral I'm going to try to go into more detail as of why instead of just key words.

Mr. Tong taught me much. I only met him 3 times. Mighty awesome how such a short accquaintance can make a difference. He taught me to give what I have. I severely struggle with feeling worthy and realize big or small if I give what I have that's enough.

I gave Mr. Tong the "Renee's Song" he gave me a smile.
I gave him my presence, he gave me a lesson in taking care of one's self.
I gave him my time he gave me a reminder of the importance - no, the nessecity of love.
I gave him a farewell song he gave me serenity in goodbye.

The first time I met him was in the hospital (Wang Pho - Sai Yok) in the small, sterile, quarantine room. The skin and bone of a man sat in his bed in the fetal position with the stench of one ready to die wafting from his presence, from his being. Blood spittle littered the floor surrounding his bed and his bed side table was laden with pills he refused to take. He was ready to die. An HIV man, a Burmese, an abandoned one. His anger, his sickness had warded off friends and family and the only ones left were a farang with 60-some children - others, like him, who had felt abandonment but refused to abandon others.

As I stood there with Momo Cat, Na (?) and Zac I sang to him 'my' song - Light of the World. The combination of song and Zac made Mr. Tong smile. It may have been his last smile.

Mr. Tong died. I was happy - that sounds morbid. On Friday (January 5, 2006) he was cremated in a Buddhist ceremony. I walked to the temple, it was very peaceful and I felt beautiful in my Karen shirt and sarong. I got to the temple and no one was there only mangy dogs who growled at low tones. I was scared. So I sang to God. After at time the funeral procession came up the hill and then away from where I waited. He was burned downhill. All the party was Buddhist except for Momo, Arthur and his family, Mowai and I. They did the white string procession around the cremation site and all the participants gave Tong some incense and flowers for his next life. The monks chanted eerily and the poeple bowed meditatively. All the while my heart strings were being pulled. Sing. Momo mentioned it but I battled with myself,

"What will people think?"
"Will the others join in?"

I was almost too late - the monks changed again. Then Momo asked, "Can we sing song?"

"Dai! Dai! (Can! Can!)"

Our little group moved to where Tong burned and sang and prayed. It was lovely. Mr. Tong was burning, the greenery was beautiful and the birds flew in the blue sky. A beautiful goodbye.