爺爺

珮珮寫於柏林2012-6-25

我的祖父是個迷人的男子，舞技精湛，極有語言天分，尤其俊美無比。

世代交替，如同百年孤寂，如同葉慈的史觀。

上週此時，也是大雨滂沱，我像個孩子般地興奮無比。望著窗外，心思早已飛出課堂，我想在雨中歌唱舞動，我想不停轉圈，任裙襬飛起，我想在雨中嬉戲直到頭髮濕透。

這週，雨聲淅瀝如舊。我完全無法專注於課堂。打開葉慈的詩集，停在帕諾爾的葬禮。今天，我們談論葬禮。

葬禮，如此妥貼。

我望向窗外，樹枝隨風擺動，被壓彎的樹梢滴著雨露，是在為我祖父的死而哀悼嗎？是父殤的慟哭嗎？

六月二十四日晚上九點鐘，格林威治表準時間加八，我的祖父於台北在睡夢中過世。同時，橫跨近整個歐亞大陸，是下午兩點，我人在柏林近郊波茲坦的某個櫻桃園。我邊採著櫻桃，邊和同行友人開著關於死亡的玩笑。我說，我忘了帶清水洗灑過農藥的櫻桃，這樣直接吃櫻桃，該不會中毒死去吧？

死亡於我如同玩笑，而死亡正吞噬著祖父。

櫻桃園忽然落雨。我席地而坐野餐，無視雨滴。其實是個相當不尋常的日子，我身邊圍繞著許多台灣人，三年來第一次，我無須費力便能解讀空氣中飄浮的符碼。隔著一個歐亞大陸，垂死的病榻前，我的家人合該是圍繞著祖父。祖父走的安詳，母親在簡訊中如是說。

祖父的死亡我竟得從簡訊中被告知，這聽來或許近乎悲慘。但除此之外，我又能從何得知？

六月二十五日，柏林時間清晨八點，我從噩夢中醒來。第一件事是查看有沒有來自母親的消息；蘋果產品上發著綠光的訊息通知畢竟是我與母親唯一的聯繫。讀了母親簡短的訊息，我長久以來的恐懼終於成真。我的家人終究是沒有隱瞞我祖父的死，而我終於不必在祖父究竟是生是死的揣測中如此不安。我不再惴惴，可以名正言順地哀働，但我應該為此感到解脫嗎？

道別。相隔一個歐亞大陸，我的家人想必忙著與祖父道別。他們會舉行一個佛教式的葬禮嗎？他們會將棺木停在大廳三天嗎？祖父俊美的黑白照會被安在靈堂，香煙裊裊，伴著家人親手摺的紙蓮花嗎？

我的姊姊會在場嗎？我對我的文化所知甚少，一個臨盆的孕婦，可以參加守靈嗎？

死亡與新生。我的姊姊懷著一個女孩（而在我將這悼文翻譯成中文的時，我的姪女已然誕生。）很快的，我的家人將與死亡道別，很快的，迎接新生的儀式將取代悼念死者的儀式。生出自於死，死又脫出於生。

世代交替，生死相伴，如同百年孤寂，如同葉慈的史觀。

My grandfather was a charming man-- an incredible dancer, talented in languages, and on top of that, a very handsome man.

An age is a reversal of an age.

The Macrocosm and the microcosm. The rain was also pouring last week this time, during which I was thrilled with a childish joy-- looking outside the window, I had a longing for running out of the classroom, I wanted to sing and dance in the rain, I wanted to spin until my dress fly, I wanted my hair to be soaking wet.

This week this time, the pouring rain. I found it especially difficult to concentrate in class. Opening up the poetry book, we started the discussion with Parnell's funeral. How fitting.

Looking outside the window, the tree was swinging, bending, raindrops dripping from the end of the branches-- was it mourning my grandfather? Was it the cry of the paternal lament?

On Sunday the 24th, nine o'clock at GMT+8 time, my grandfather passed away in sleep. The same time, across the Eurasia continent, two o'clock in the afternoon, I was plucking cherries in Potsdam. I did not bring water to rinse the new plucked cherries before eating them, and I joked about death. "I hope i won't die from this." I joked about death.

An unexpected shower. I was sitting on the ground of the cherry orchard, having lunch, oblivious to the rain. It was a rather unusual day. I was surrounded by Taiwanese people, for the very first time in three years, I didn't have to put any effort into deciphering the floating semantic lingos. At the same time across the Eurasia continent, the family was surrounding the death bed. It was a serene death, according to my mother in her very brief text messages.

It's almost miserable that I was notified of my grandfather's death through text messages. Yet how else could I have been notified?

I woke up at eight o'clock from uneasy dreams this morning, as usual the first thing I did was checking the messages. Flashing green push messages from an apple gadget. The hanging fear was confirmed. After all, my family did not keep me in the dark. I was hereby released from the emotional limbo, but should I feel relieved?

Closure. An Eurasia continent away the family must be busy with the closure. Will they host a Buddhist funeral? Will they keep the coffin at hall for three days, with the black and white picture of my handsome grandfather, burning incense accompanied by paper lotus, each folded by members of the family?

Will my sister be able to be there? I know far too little about my culture. Will a pregnant woman be allowed to participate in a wake?

Death and new birth. My sister is carrying a baby girl. The baby girl will be born in July. First child of the new generation. Soon the whole family will be over the death, soon rituals of welcoming the new birth will take over. Life completes death, death completes life.

An age is a reversal of an age.

25.06.201

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