After My Death, Mom Destroyed the Family

I was a middle child, the black sheep of the family, the unloved one, the loser, the unwanted child, you named it. So, it was not so strange that when I died no one in my family cared about losing me.  In fact, deep down, I suspect, that they were actually relieved I had died.   

The day that I died was the day when I went home to celebrate The Day of the Death Festival. I was supposed to enjoy the festive atmosphere of the festival with my family, instead, I was burned to death in the old family mansion.  

In that final moment of my life, when I arrived at the afterlife, the King of Hell came to see me and made me an offer I could not reject. He wanted to play a game with me. 

He said that if I could collect the tears of my closest family members within a month, he would allow me to return to life. However, if I failed, I had to meet the consequences which was for my soul to be scattered and lost forever.  

Although there was some doubt in my heart, I thought it would be an easy task to do, so I agreed. He then gave me a pouch to collect the tears of my next of kin. So, I put the pouch across my chest and headed back home. Ready to collect the tears. After all, I just died, okay? Surely, collecting tears from my family members would be easy, right?

However, when my spirit finally drifted back to my family, I found out that there was not a trace of sadness on their faces.  They even lived their life as usual as before. In fact, they looked happier.

My sister sent a message to my boyfriend, "Andrea is dead. Now we can finally be together without worry that she will know and make a fuss about this. There is no one that will hinder our love anymore.”     

My brother told his friend, “Let's get online and play. Who cares if that unlucky thing died? Ranking up is way more important than to care about her. Let's play!”     

My father grumbled at my mother, “This useless girl. If she had to die, couldn't she have picked somewhere else? Why did she have to burn down our old mansion? That building is still nice.”

And my mother, while calmly comforting him, said, “Oh, cheer up, Dear! Don’t you think this is the best outcome? Now, we don’t have to hang our heads in shame because of her disgraceful job. They won't tease up anymore.”     

Then I realized that I had made a wrong move. I was too delusional and naive. The task that I originally thought was so easy, was in fact the hardest one. I could not stop myself but to curse, "Damn … how could I forget? I was too careless!"

My family had never loved me. In fact, I was a stranger in their eyes!

——

For as long as I could remember, I knew I did not belong in this family. I felt that I was the odd one there. No one wanted me to be included in anything. They did not care about my well-being or needs.

Maybe it was usual that in a family of three children, the middle child would always get overlooked. I always felt I was a stranger in my own family.

I remembered an incident when we all went to the amusement park as a family of five. At that time, my father carried my sister and my mother held my brother. Meanwhile, I walked behind them. My parents only urged me to keep up with them.

This situation was used by a human trafficker who had been watching us from the shadows. He managed to grab me, cover my mouth and take me away.

If it weren't for our neighbor, Aunt Wanda and her family coincidentally bumping into us at the park entrance, I would be taken somewhere else. Aunt Wanda and her family immediately freed me and took me to my family.

Even after that terrifying ordeal, my parents still did not care. They only scolded and beat me for not keeping up with them. Meanwhile, my sister and brother laughed at my misfortune and no one offered me any comfort.

At six years old, I remember thinking that maybe it would have been better if the trafficker had taken me away at that time.

This was how my life had been for the next twenty-five years.

Then, when I graduated from college, I took a job as a mortician and things had finally changed. They decided to kick me out of the house.

The first day my mother found out I worked as a mortician, she immediately called me. She demanded me to quit my job.

In the background, I could hear my father yell furiously, "I don't have an unlucky daughter like her!"

My brother texted me, "Andrea, you're disgusting,"

And, did you want to know my darling sister's reaction?

She put on her usual performance, pretending to be a thoughtful sister. “Mom, Dad, don’t be upset. It just shows how skilled she is! Imagine, even those mangled, torn-apart corpses are made whole under her hands. People in the village will probably praise us for having such a talented college graduate in the family.”

My mom and dad were prideful people. They were obsessed with how the people perceived them. They were especially terrified and hated to become the village's object of gossip. Having a daughter who became a mortician would not make them the envy of the villagers, instead, my whole family would be criticized by them.

And, so my sister's words had successfully had the desired effect.

On the other end of the line, they cursed me out for what felt like an eternity. Their final words echoed, “If you don’t quit, don’t even think about coming home!”

That’s my family for you.

I had wondered countless times that if I died one day would they actually grieve for me?

However, when I looked at them standing at the scene of my death, the answer was obvious.

This was the first of my death. No one in my family had shed a single tear.

The tears I had collected were zero. Days remaining to gather tears was twenty-nine.