Funeral Memoir

A short, scrawny old man came over, holding Grandma's memorial portrait. According to local custom, a grandchild should walk at the front of the procession carrying it. But the old man walked right past you and handed the portrait to your younger brother. Then he said something you would never forget: "Only a grandson can do this. You can just hold your brother's hand or carry him. If your brother weren't so young, you wouldn't even be allowed at the front." Even though your brother couldn't see the ground with the portrait in his hands, they still chose this way to humiliate you, and to humiliate every woman on this land. Unfortunately, out of respect for the funeral, you didn't step forward to slap that old Qing-dynasty zombie, or curse him out. You simply made your way through the funeral in silence. Thanks to the old zombie, Grandma's death no longer consumed all your emotions. Anger and pain grew wild in your chest like weeds. Many years later, you finally worked up the courage to talk about it openly with your parents at the dinner table. Your father said nothing. Your mother brushed it off: "What did you expect? You're a girl." You understood then, deep down, that no one in this world would stand up for you over this. The only person you could rely on was yourself. In the dead of night, the slap you never delivered haunted you without end. At last, one morning, after waking from a blissful dream, Yi Yi returned to the days when her younger brother was still a little brat. The gardenias outside the window were in bloom. P.S. A pre-release story I started writing for my own enjoyment. I hope to begin posting it in 2023. Written January 3, 2023. Theme: Self-love, self-reliance, confidence, and freedom.