The Last Photograph

Finally, I got a WhatsApp message from a Miss Chan from the funeral parlour this afternoon. It came at the right time, and I was grateful for that.

This morning, I thought I had done something really stupid when I looked at a photo on the computer and was thinking about deleting it for good. Miss Chan was asking for a photo. It is the photo of Uncle Nine, the only photo I took for him when I visited him at an elderly home.

It all came back. At 2:21am on 2 December, I was woken up by the mobile phone an hour after I fell asleep. The other side of the phone started to say after she had confirmed my identity, “I am a nurse at Pok Oi Hospital, and we found your telephone number on his file. I am calling to tell you that Mr. XX九 was critically ill, and we think he may not survive the night. Would you like to come and see him?” My half-conscious mind only reminded me that I needed to take my father to attend a medcial appointment at 9:00am. “No, I can’t come, sorry,” I said to the nurse. “Should we call you if he passes away?” she added. “No, thanks.” That was the best I could say. I was sorry after the other side hung up the phone. Not because I could not go to see him for the last time, but because I had not visited him since the COVID-19 pandemic broke out.

I called the elderly home a few days later to ask for the details of his funeral, as I assumed he had passed on to the better side of the world. My phone call was transferred from a clerk to a nurse and then to a woman, and I had to confirm her position as a social worker. She told me she knew nothing about the funeral as the case was referred to XXX funeral service agent. So, I asked her to look that up for me, as I would like to pay final respect to the old man. She agreed, and I left my number with her.

A week later, having received no reply from the social worker, I searched for the funeral service agent myself. After several calls, I got in touch with a Mr. Wong, and he gave me the date and time for the funeral. A few minutes later, something came to my mind, and I called Mr. Wong again to tell him Uncle Nine once said to me that he was baptised in a Catholic church when he was young and poor. He told me his stepson intended to have a Taoist funeral for him, though the referring social worker said he was a Catholic. He asked if I could remember the name of the Catholic church, but I could not.

On Christmas Eve morning, I met Ann, a former colleague, at the reception desk of Pok Oi Hospital to wait for Mr. Wong, the funeral agent. I overheard him talking to someone about me joining the funeral, and I introduced myself to them. They were Uncle Nine’s stepson and his wife. The funeral master eventually came at 9:15 am and told us that the funeral ceremony would be held according to the Catholic ritual at the mortuary chapel and then the Taoist at the crematorium. That’s flexible, I thought.

I was upset when the stepson declined to check the identity of the corpse, and when I saw the state of Uncle Nine, even after they had put makeup on his face. I asked myself how on earth that had happened: the mouth of the corpse was wide open, a hand was poking forward, and the knees were all flexed. The worst part was his black-and-white funeral photo-it was not a photo of a man, but a skull wrapped in thin crepe paper. They could not find any photos of him and just blew up the photo on his identity card. I later found out that he had his identity card renewed in early 2024. He was emaciated even a year before he passed away.

The Catholic ritual was nothing but 3 bows and the viewing of the corpse. It lasted for less than 3 minutes, and the stepson and wife declined to view the corpse before the coffin was sealed. The Taoist ritual was even faster at the crematorium, and the stepson declined to press the button to start Uncle Nine’s last journey. I was completely lost after all the rituals had been performed. Was that a funeral ceremony? Was it worth the money paid? Why did he have such a raw deal for his last business on earth? I have been to many funerals. Even those on income support had a much better service than this. He had resided in a religious elderly home and had his own case social worker, but in the end, he got this treatment.

Just before we departed, I asked Miss Chan if it was possible to use another photo for the grave plaque if I could find a better one. She welcomed the idea. I left without asking for her contact.

I went through all the photos in my cellphone and eventually found one I took for Uncle Nine in 2014 when I took him out for cold coffee and egg sandwiches on a visit to the elderly home. He told me that the staff members of the elderly home would not buy him cold coffee and sandwiches. I cropped the photo and realised I did not have the contacts with Miss Chan. I called Mr. Wong a couple of times and left a message for him to call me. He never did. 

This afternoon, Miss Chan texted me to ask for the photo, and I was very happy to send her that. I am glad that I have at least done something good for Uncle Nine, something that would make me happier than any others. Though he was one of the friends I made at work 29 years ago, I am glad I could do that for you. Rest in peace, Uncle Nine.

Chinese translation: Google Translate

今天下午我終於收到了來自殯儀館陳小姐的WhatsApp訊息。它來得正合時，我對此表示感激。

今天早上，當我看著電腦上的一張照片並考慮永久刪除它時，我覺得自己做了一些非常愚蠢的事情。陳小姐要求一張照片，是九叔的照片，是我去老人院探望他時為他拍的唯一張照片。

一切都回來了。 12月2日凌晨2點21分，我剛睡著一個小時後就被手機吵醒了。電話那頭確認了我的身分後就開始說：「我是博愛醫院的護士，我們在他的檔案裡找到了你的電話號碼。我打電話是想告訴您，XX九先生病危，我們認為他可能活不過今晚了，你會來看看他嗎？」我半醒的腦袋只提醒我早上9:00需要帶父親去看醫生。 「不，我不能來，抱歉，」我對護士說。「如果他去世了，我們應該給你打電話嗎？」她補充道。「不，謝謝。」這是我能說最好的說話了。對方掛斷電話後我感到很後悔。不是因為我不能見他最後一面，而是因為自從 COVID-19爆發以來我就沒有去過探望他。

幾天後，我打電話給老人院，詢問他葬禮的細節，因為我相信他已經過世，到了世界更美好的一面。我的電話從一名文員轉接到護士，然後轉接到一位女士，還要我主動才確認她是位社工。她告訴我她對葬禮安排一無所知，因為個案已轉交給XXX殯葬服務機構。我請她幫我查一下，因為我想向這位老人致上最後的敬意。她同意了，我把我的電話號碼留給了她。

一週後，由於沒有收到社工的回覆，我自己在網上尋找那殯葬服務機構。打了過幾次電話後終於聯絡上一位黃先生，他給了我葬禮的日期和時間。收線後幾分鐘，我想起一件事，又給黃先生打電話，告訴他九叔曾經對我說過，他年輕時很窮，在天主教堂受洗了。他告訴我，他的繼子打算為他舉辦道教葬禮，儘管轉介的社工說他是天主教徒。他問我是否記得天主教堂的名字，但我記不起。

平安夜的早上，我在博愛醫院接待處與前同事等待殯葬公司的黃先生。我無意中聽到他和某人談論我將參加葬禮，便主動向他們自我介紹。他們是九叔的繼子和他的妻子。上午9點15分，殯葬師終於來了，她告訴我們葬禮將在醫院殮房的小禮堂按天主教儀式舉行，然後在火葬場按道教儀式舉行。我想，這很靈活。

當看見繼子拒絕核對屍體的身份，又看到九叔的狀態時，即使他們給他化妝了，我也感到很沮喪。我問自己這到底是怎麼發生的：屍體的嘴大大張開，一隻手向前伸出，膝蓋全部彎曲。最糟糕的是他的黑白葬禮照片 - 那不是一個人的照片，而是一個用薄皺紋紙包裹的頭骨。他們找不到他的任何照片，只是把他身分證上的照片放大了。後來我才知道，他在2024年初換了新的身分證。 原來在他去世前一年已經很消瘦了。

所謂天主教儀式只不過是三鞠躬和瞻仰遺容，整個過程不到3分鐘，繼子和妻子在棺材被封上之前還拒絕瞻仰屍體。火葬場的道教儀式更快，而繼子亦拒絕按下啟動九叔最後旅程的按鈕。完成所有儀式後，我感到完全迷失了。那是葬禮嗎？所付的錢值得嗎？為什麼他在地上的最後一筆生意會受到如此不公平的待遇？我參加過很多葬禮，即使是靠綜援的人也能得到比這更好的服務。他曾住在宗教主辦的老人院，也有自己的個案社工，但最後卻得到了這樣的待遇。

臨離開前，我問陳小姐，如果能找到更好的照片，是否可以用另一張照片作為墓碑。她對這個想法表示歡迎。我沒有詢問她的聯絡方式就離開了。

我翻遍了手機裡的所有照片，終於找到了一張在2014年到老人院探九叔時帶他外出去喝凍咖啡和雞蛋三明治時給他拍的照片。他告訴我，老人院的工作人員不會買凍咖啡和三明治給他。我裁好了照片才發現沒有與陳小姐聯絡方法。我給黃先生打了幾次電話，並留言請他打電話給我，但他沒有這樣做。

今天下午，陳小姐傳簡訊給我要照片，我很高興地把照片傳給她。我慶幸自己至少為九叔做了一件好事，一件比任何人都感到更高興的事。儘管他祇是29年前我在工作地方中認識的一個朋友，但我很高興能為您做這件事。安息吧，九叔。