Death at Thirteen

I do not handle the death of others well so I try to stay away. Maybe that is why I have not written about this funeral. My ScanDisk SDHC Card for my camera is also corrupted so I can not get any of the almost 100 pictures out of it. Daeng had spent two days at the funeral of our friend's thirteen year old daughter. I worked with Mi painting the ceilings of all the rooms on our third floor of the "little house", as we call it.

I am told that she and some other kids went into a pond swimming but there was more water in the pond from the recent rain so she got over her head and was not a good swimmer.

I have know her Dad since 2007 when he advised us not to go up the Mekong River to help build the school. You can read of those stories by clicking on these links: 5-31-07 Addition to the story “Trip up the River- Spring 2007 and 10-27-07 Our trip to Burma(Myanmar) . After you read the stories you will understand why he said:"Don't go!"

Daeng has known the Father for over eighteen years as his situations is a little unusual. He is Akha, a ladyboy and married with a wife and two additional children. He came to Thailand, worked very hard in and around the restaurant/club business, saved his money and took care of his family.

On Sunday we dressed, had coffee and headed to the funeral in an Akha village just southwest of Mae Sai. The trip only took us about 20 minutes and the check point was not stopping anyone.

The service was already in process so we sat in the back. Daeng translated most of what was being said. The Pastors that spoke tried to get the message to the 150-200 people that she was now with the Lord, not to be angry at anyone or anything for this tragedy and to go on with their lives praising God for all our blessings.

After the service, tables and chairs were moved around and we all eat together. It was an Akha meal with rice, fried beef, raw pork sauce, chicken soup and a spicy tomato salad. I had never that the spicy tomato salad and ask about it but no one seemed to know how to make it or how to ask.

I was able to send a few minutes with "Ataa", her Father and told him we were there to support him and to call upon us if we could help him. As we hugged and our eyes touched another tear rolled from his eyes. He had been crying for three days.

After we ate, the tables from the entrance of the house and the road were taken away. I ask what was happening and was told they were going to carry the casket on two pieces of bamboo up the hill about four (4) kilometer to be placed in a crypt in the jungle.

That is exactly what happened. Six men carried the casket to the final resting place. It was an uphill walk, I even had to stop twice on the way up the hill to catch my breath. Then another short, 15 minute service and she was placed into the crypt.

The jungle around the crypt area had all been cleared and it did look very peaceful. As soon as the casket was placed in the crypt, some men that were standing by started to lay the blocks that would seal the crypt.

We slowly walked down the mountain path. When we arrived at the home where the funeral was held we said our good-byes and made the trip back to Mae Sai.

I do not handle death well and there seems to be a lot of death around me lately.