Melancholy

I've been telling him again and again, not to drink so much. He always thought he is strong, he can take it, now look what has happened?

My Dad raged endlessly on the car ride to the wake.

After we offered the incense, my Dad requested to have a glance in the coffin. He stood there for a long time.

I followed suit after a few minutes. I stared at the face, caked with makeup. It looks artificial, like a manniqueen. It was a lifeless shell with no resemblance at all to the cheerful smiles I remembered.

My Dad turned around suddenly, his eyes reddened, his cheeks streaked with tears. Somewhat embarrassed to have his stoic image tarnished, he stumbled around the tables aimlessly and disappeared behind the pillars.

His anger turned to sorrow.