Lost Grave

My cousin called me yes­ter­day to tell me strange news of my father’s fam­ily los­ing my grandmother’s grave. Yes. Lost Granny’s grave.

My father’s brother bought three plots in the ceme­tery in Port Dick­son in 1999 when Gran (Ah Por) passed away aged 100. She was buried in one of the plots. There was sup­posed to be a tomb­stone erected a few months later, but Uncle (Peh Deh) daw­dled because he wanted some­thing grand. Four years later, and there’s no tomb­stone, and my rel­a­tives have been pay­ing respects at either plots two or three, because some think she’s in plot two and some think she’s in plot three. This April, it dawned on them that some of them have been pray­ing at the wrong, empty, plot.

I’d say this is in keep­ing with fam­ily tra­di­tion now. Great grandfather’s grave in Hainan was over­run by chick­ens from the nearby free range chicken farm and was barely vis­i­ble (Chi­nese graves are usu­ally a mound marked by a tomb­stone), because of the accu­mu­lated wear from years of chicken feet stampede.