10
This memorial hall was grand in scale and exquisitely built, clearly having required immense thought and expense. A plaque hung above the entrance, inscribed with “Lila’s Sanctuary,” the calligraphy strong and meaningful. “Who built this memorial hall for your
mother?” Christopher, sensing my confusion, asked softly.
I didn’t know. I truly didn’t know. I had never imagined anyone would construct such a luxurious hall for my mother. But after the
initial bewilderment, my thoughts turned to one person. It could be no one but him.
With questions swirling, I stepped into the memorial hall. Inside, my mother’s memorial tablet was enshrined, accompanied by a
photograph of her. In the picture, Mother’s smile was gentle and kind, as if she had never known hardship. Fresh fruits and incense
sticks were placed before the tablet, indicating frequent visitors.
I didn’t care who had done what, or what their motives were. I simply took out the photos I had taken during my travels over the years, burning them one by one for my mother. I told her which places I had visited, the people I had met, and the experiences I had. I told her I was doing very well, asking her not to worry. I also introduced Christopher to her, hoping she would be happy for me even in the afterlife.
Just as I was burning the last photograph, a familiar voice sounded behind me: “Lila.”
I turned, and saw Julian Winthorpe. He stood at the entrance, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, his figure tall, but cons- iderably thinner than before. His hair was already streaked with gray, and several new wrinkles creased his forehead, evident proof that these past years had not been easy for him.
“You came,” I said flatly, my voice devoid of emotion. It was clear Julian had often visited my mother’s memorial over the years, but I truly had nothing to say to him. If it weren’t for him, my mother and I might not be separated by life and death today. It was simply too difficult for me to offer him a kind look.
“Lila, are you doing well?” He walked closer to me, asking softly. “All these missed you?”
couldn’t find you. Do you know how much I’ve
“I’m doing very well, thank you,” I replied, burning the last photograph. In the picture, Christopher and I were nestled together, our smiles radiant.
“Lila, can we go back to how things were? Give me a chance. Let me make amends for the mistakes I’ve committed.” Julian looked at me, his eyes full of expectation.
I shook my head, my voice firm. “No, Julian, From the moment you lied to me, from the moment my mother passed away, we were already over.” I turned to Christopher. “And I already have someone I love.” He stood by my side, silently supporting me. “This is my boyfriend, Christopher Stone,” I introduced.
Julian looked at Christopher, a flicker of surprise and loss in his eyes. He understood now. Whatever he was doing, I was irrevocably beyond his reach. “Lila, I wish you happiness.” Julian said, then turned and left the memorial hall. I watched his retreating back, feeling no ripple of emotion in my heart.
Christopher walked to my side, gently embracing me: “Lila, the past is past. The future is what matters most. I’ll be with you, walki- ng forward together.”
I leaned into his embrace, feeling his warmth. I knew I had made the right choice. I looked at my mother’s memorial tablet again, my heart filled with gratitude. With her spirit in heaven, she probably wouldn’t worry about me anymore.
