A Small Way of Remembering

There is a potluck this week for my brother’s (BW) 10th-year memorial. On Friday night, we will gather for the potluck. On Saturday, there will be a gathering at the cemetery before the memorial ritual, and, as usual, dinner afterward.

When I first heard about it, I noticed a part of me resisting.

The first thought that came was, Not again.

Not out of indifference, but from the familiar weight these moments carry—the quiet emotional toll that seems to return each time.

Then something shifted. I found myself wondering—what if I chose to take part in it, gently and willingly?

So I decided to bring rendang, a dish I once cooked that BW liked, to the potluck, and to make 糕仔 (a Chinese sweet) for the gathering at the cemetery. It felt like a small way of remembering him, and of being present with everyone else who remembers him too.

Somewhere in that decision, I felt a little lighter. Even a little more at peace.

And I found myself thinking: maybe this is what a meaningful life looks like—not the absence of resistance, but the choice to meet it with care.