“…the scent of incense reaches me. I think of looking back, but the fear of putrefaction suddenly grabs me, and I move on. Finally, at the end of the road, I stop and turn to admire the Roman-columned funeral home. In the distance, I see the bent figure stoking the flame and the thin line of smoke reaching high up towards the sky. A red kite cuts across its path and something tells me Sophie's enjoying this all somehow. The scent of burnt paper reaches me, and I know Grandmother is burning them for me too. (Mismanagement of Grief)” GriefEstrangement From Family Book:Conversion & Other Fictions Source: Conversion & Other Fictions
“Weeping is reserved for those who stay. They weep and the earth weeps with them, the anguish drowned in a sea of shared grief. The exile cries alone, his voice sailing across eons unheeded, until, hitting the ghost of some dead galaxy, it is thrown back to haunt him.” GriefRefugeeExile Book:Men of the East and Other Stories Source: Men of the East and Other Stories
“It was the season Ching Ming--clearness and brightness—when spirits returned from the netherworld, essences of all sorts abounded and filial sons journeyed home to their ancestral shrines to pay homage. The Wang widow, Siao lan, whose husband died on their wedding night, was on her third and final year of mourning. Her weeping-singing rent asunder the twilight calm, "O master, thou are cruel. O father, curse the day of my birth. Fate is a playful warlock. One day the fresh young bride, tomorrow, an empty-bowl widow.” MourningMisfortuneWidow Book:Woman of Am-kaw and Other Stories Source: Woman of Am-kaw and Other Stories