"You all say I'm too old and won't let me attend my wife's funeral. Now you won't even give me the chance to place her ashes in the Memorial Building. How 'filial' of you! I'm not afraid of anything; the government will take care of the elderly and won't let those heartless people run amok!"

"Dad, it's not that I don't want you to go; it's my sister's suggestion. I'm just conveying her thoughts. If you have any objections, you can discuss it with her."

"I am the father; she is the daughter. I don't need to argue with her! Is your sister's word like an imperial edict? As soon as she speaks, you get scared and don't dare to move? Just to please your sister, you can disrespect your dad? The director of the nursing home has already approved my discharge to take the ashes, and now you are changing your mind. How do I explain this to him?"

The night after grandma's funeral, grandpa criticized mom just because she conveyed the suggestion that grandpa shouldn't go to the Memorial Building to place grandma's ashes (this suggestion was actually made by aunt, but she didn't come forward and let mom discuss it with grandpa).

I spent the day of grandma's funeral in a "gloomy" mood...

During the funeral preparations, I had a dispute with aunt—under economic circumstances, aunt suggested using cheap silk flowers for the guest's floral tribute. To give grandma face, I strongly opposed it and insisted on using fresh flowers, but this led to a clash with aunt.

After the argument, aunt told my mom, "You can decide your own matters; I can't help!" Clearly, she didn't want to cooperate with us.

As the only daughter in the family, I was spoiled by my parents since childhood, so I didn't take aunt's dissatisfaction to heart.

On the day of the funeral, I transformed into a little leader, arranging my parents' tasks: "Mom and Dad, my social skills aren't great; you handle the guests, and I'll be a little secretary, following mom and paying attention to the surroundings." Upon hearing this, my parents nodded, giving me confidence and encouragement.

However, I began to miss my deceased grandparents—thinking of my gradually departing grandma, grandpa, and grandma, I felt scared—I was afraid I would no longer have relatives to care for me. So, I shifted my attention to grandpa, even though he had never cared for me (only for my cousin), treating me as a tool for accompanying him to see a doctor and undergo surgery.

I opened my mom's WeChat to chat with him under the pretext of reporting the funeral progress. At 92, he sent me a voice message in a muffled voice, which instantly made me smile—like returning to the days when grandpa was alive, when I would often touch his cheek, and he would always respond with a warm smile. I thought, grandma is gone; perhaps lonely grandpa would change his preference for boys over girls and care for me like grandpa did... I excitedly shared the information grandpa sent with my mom.

At that time, aunt and uncle's family were also in the car (grandpa wasn't present because he was too old, and both the family and the nursing home didn't allow him to attend the funeral). Aunt and cousin's wife (cousin's wife, the granddaughter-in-law that grandpa loved the most; cousin couldn't attend the funeral due to illness, so cousin's wife represented him) turned around and glanced at me without saying a word.

The attendees of the funeral were all nephews from grandma's maternal side, and they had a good relationship with my mom. Before we arrived, they had already driven to the funeral home. As soon as they saw my mom, the three uncles quickly handed over their condolence money. After my mom accepted it, she passed it to me, asking me to hold it and count it after the guests left.

Grandma's maternal family is a family of doctors, and the male members have all received good education, so these three uncles were particularly polite, always taking the initiative to chat with my parents and ask about grandpa's health. However, one of them acted a bit frivolously; when he handed the condolence money to my mom, he threw the money into her hand like a gambler going all in.

Although I found his actions quite impolite, I wasn't angry; instead, I felt wronged. Because grandpa had previously said in front of others that the deceased father had poor character, and now we were all "cleaning up" for grandpa.

Half an hour later, the funeral home staff had arranged the funeral room, allowing us to enter one by one. Based on my previous experience attending grandpa and grandma's funerals, I took a black armband from the table to wear. Unexpectedly, aunt suddenly came over and told me, "You wore it wrong!" It turned out that cousin's wife, as the granddaughter-in-law, should wear the black armband, while I, as the granddaughter, should wear a white collar flower.

Upon hearing this, I quickly changed to the white collar flower, thinking: if it weren't for aunt's reminder, I would have been disrespectful. It seems I still have some status in grandma's family.

Once in the room, everyone lined up according to seniority, standing in horizontal rows from front to back. I stood in the third row (the children in the front, sons-in-law and daughters-in-law in the second row, and grandchildren in the third row, followed by guests).

After everyone stood in place, the funeral host began to read the eulogy. I suddenly remembered that my phone was still on, so I hurriedly took it out of my bag and, with trembling hands, pressed the power button to turn it off—I had forgotten to turn it off while following my mom to greet guests, and if my phone rang at such an occasion, I would be embarrassed.

Fortunately, the phone was turned off. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, the mournful music began to play. It turned out that while I was focused on turning off my phone, the host had already finished reading the eulogy and then called out, "Play the mournful music."

As the mournful music played, I was drawn into a state of oppressive sadness. Originally, relatives had agreed to smile through the mourning and not to cry, but unexpectedly, I couldn't control my emotions.

During the farewell to the body, I had to walk around grandma's body. At that moment, a voice came from behind: "You are the elder; she should let you go first." I turned around to see it was uncle talking to aunt. I immediately let aunt go first and then followed everyone in a circle.

At this moment, my emotions became increasingly heavy—tears streamed down from my eyes. I occasionally turned to glance at grandma's body but didn't dare to look directly, fearing that seeing her face would make me even more reluctant to part.

Finally, during the family thank-you segment, I had to shake hands with the guests. Throughout the process, I could only lower my head to hide my tear-streaked face. When the uncles shook hands with me, I held their hands tightly and didn't let go for a long time.

"Thank... you for... coming..." I choked out. After I finished speaking, cousin's wife immediately repeated my words loudly. Upon hearing this, the uncles quickly completed their thank-yous and walked towards the exit.

Emotionally stirred, I was left behind by everyone and could only follow in the direction of my dad. Dad was walking with the frivolous uncle, who said that grandma's funeral was a smile through mourning and that there was no need to be too sad. Hearing this made me very sad, and I felt ashamed for not being able to control my tears.

On the way home, I was still crying. Uncle and aunt sat in front of me, occasionally turning around to look at me, even coughing a few times. During the cleansing meal, uncle said to me, "You are too tired." Although their expressions and words carried some reproach, I knew they actually cared about me.

After the meal, aunt asked mom to persuade grandpa not to send grandma's ashes. I felt that my performance that day embarrassed everyone, so I nodded in agreement, hinting for mom to agree to this matter.

Unexpectedly, mentioning this to grandpa resulted in his scolding. That day, my longing for family affection suffered a devastating blow, and this impact accompanied me for half a year. Fortunately, grandma didn't abandon me—she blessed and encouraged me three times through dreams.