Here's a spiritual story I'd like to share with you.
Dad passed away in 1988. He had lung cancer and the downhill run took only 3 months from diagnosis until the finish line.
During that time, he and my Mum were in touch with their good friends in Penang, Johnny Cardosa and his wife, Yee Hah. Johnny was a cancer survivor and was actively helping with a cancer society, so when he heard my Dad had cancer, he made sure to keep in constant contact with his old friend.
My Dad passed away early on the morning of 30th April 1988, flanked by Mum and my sister and her husband and my brother. When the rest of us heard the news, we all bought our air tickets or filled our petrol tanks, packed our bags and got back to the family home as quickly as we could. I flew back from Australia with my brother Joe.
A little later that morning, Mum received a call from Johnny who said quietly ‘Mary, I had a dream about Pak Yik last night, and in my dream he appeared to me and said “Johnny, I’m happy now”. So I thought I’d better call you to suggest you prepare for the worst.’
‘But you don’t understand, Johnny,’ Mum replied. ‘Pak Yik passed away a short while ago…’
If you're really happy, let me know.
Dad’s body lay in a coffin in our living room that night and as is the custom with Catholic families, the neighbourhood church group - the BEC - gathered, along with family and friends, to run through a prayer service. We had all arrived by that time, I think, and after everyone had gone, we eventually settled down in the house to rest. Some of us indeed slept in the hall near Dad. Bear in mind there are 7 of us so you can imagine that our house was rather packed.
Late that night, Mum, who couldn’t find the comfort of sleep, came out from her bedroom and into the hall. She sat quietly among us, rosary in one hand, silently praying.
In her prayers she said to Dad ‘if you’re really happy, please don’t go around telling others. Let me know directly instead.’
The Chinese have a belief that a white moth is the spirit of a deceased one. And a short while after Mum prayed those words, a white moth flitted into the hall from the dark night outside. Mum saw it and followed it with her eyes as it flew around the casket, then flitted around each of our slumbering selves in turn before settling on the floor next to Mum.
Reassured and suddenly very tired, she fell asleep in the chair.
The next day, she told us about this moth and at first, as is the Cheong way, we responded with skepticism and some downplaying. Still, Mum was convinced it was a sign.
No one really believed the story of the white moth
Nightly prayers are often conducted for a week straight - from the first day the body returns to the home until after the funeral. So on the second evening, everyone gathered again and Mum told a few about the previous night’s visitor. Patient and comforting though slightly disbelieving smiles were the most common response though no one outright pooh-poohed her story.
And soon they would have no reason too, for for the second night in a row, a white moth appeared as we all went through the prayer service.
This one did the same as the one before, or was it the same moth? It flew around each of us, the casket, and Mum, before flying up to the ceiling where it clung.
‘You see it? You see it?’ Mum whispered to all of us.
‘Yes, Mum’ we nodded back. And so as prayers went on, that moth stayed put. And then, suddenly, one of the many house lizards that roamed our walls and ceilings put in an appearance. It spied this delectable morsel and crawled towards the moth in little bursts of speed.
With each advance, Mum grew more anxious… ‘Aiyoh…’ was in her eyes, and on her lips. And well, to be honest, we were by this time all transfixed upon this mounting drama unfolding 10 feet above the murmuring prayers.
The lizard finally reached the moth which amazingly still stayed put. It sniffed the moth a bit and as Mum watched anxiously, it suddenly turned around and scurried off. Uninterested in dinner, it seemed, much to Mum’s relief.
The moth survived the night and by the next morning had flown off somewhere.
On the third night, as we prayed, who do you think put in an appearance? Yes, another (or was it the same one) white moth.
One white moth a month is already fairly unusual. 3 on 3 consecutive nights is beyond belief. And on each night, for it to be left alone by predators raises eyebrows ceiling-high.
Make that 4 in 4. For on the fourth night, it came again. And the lizard left it alone yet again. Oh wait, 5 in 5. Yes, 5 nights in a row, we had a white moth visitor.
On this 5th night, though, something else happened. This time, the lizards gathered more menacingly and as we watched anxiously, this time the end was different. The lizard came, sniffed… and chomped.
‘Ayoh!’ Mum exclaimed. And I think we all gasped too. Prayers continued, then a few minutes later, something happened that raised all the hairs on our necks a little skyward.
For the second time that night, a white moth flew in. A second white moth. In one night.
Chomp!
Prayers were automatic at this time, led unhesitatingly by (if I remember correctly) my uncle Albert Rozario who had his eyes closed as he recited the Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s and Glory Be’s… The rest of us? We had eyes only for the moth as it flew around us then settled on the ceiling.
Chomp!
The lizards were fast making up for their earlier fasting, it seemed.
And then…. a third white moth of the night came in. The lizards were, by this time, satiated, so this fella survived to fly another night.
And so, for the rest of the prayers, we had a white moth for company.
What do we make of this? Well, I am neither very Chinese (more a Banana than a Cantonese, as I tell people) nor very religious. And I am quite removed from knowledge and practice of Chinese customs and traditions.
But I am convinced the moths were a visual message of reassurance, the answer to Mum’s request of Dad. ‘Let me know…’ she’d asked of him. And so he did, using a device he was more familiar with than I was, but one we all could understand.
Dad died too soon. Just shy of his 65th birthday, he’d finally retired and was looking forward to spending even more time tending his plants and going fishing. He and Mum would have been able to do things with a freedom they’d not quite had before.
It’s good that even beyond his earthly existence, he found some way to still keep in touch and let us know he was watching over us.
[picture of moth from: http://bristolwood.net/2012/05/26/quite-the-collection]
