Early this morning I'm going to pay respects to my dad and grandma with my family and relatives. Their urns are stored in those locker-like slots in a temple, and every year there's always a huge crowd of people there despite it being the crack of dawn. My bro and I are normally the only ones from my generation to turn up; the rest are all the older folks. My cousins elect to skip this event cos they don't know most of the rites and rituals (besides it being at an unearthly hour). Actually, my bro and I still don't get the praying bit despite having gone to pay respect for ages. 'We just follow our uncles and aunts blindly and mimic what they do. Mum never taught us how, she probably doesn't see the point since we're free thinkers.

When my dad first passed away, there was a time when my bro and I couldn't remember the lot number for his urn. I distinctly recalled that an uncle chided us for not being respectful enough to remember the resting place of our dad. It was awful cos we didn't mean to forget... we just remembered the other more meaningful memories of our dad. But I did jot down the lot number into my Palm Pilot afterwards, and every year I'd transfer the lot number to my mobile phone so I wouldn't forget. Odd. I wonder if dad would be disappointed with me if he could see me now.