Keeping my father's urn on my balcony lets me get comfy with death

Some people turn silent while others talk playfully when the topic of their death and funerals comes up.

- Denise Chong

I keep my father's now-empty urn on my balcony. I mentioned this during a conversation in which people chatted cheerily about how their own remains could be handled. It is so interesting how people react when the topic of their own death, funeral, advance medical directive and so on comes up.

Some people blanch at it or turn silent. Others talk playfully about their future remains: from being scattered at sea or in a garden, to being turned into a diamond, or unintentionally ending up as pet food.

Singapore residents today have more ways to approach the topic, such as a November festival themed My Last Journey, offering insights into end-of-life practices, sessions with end-of-life "doulas", and a government online portal, My Legacy, for one-stop end-of-life and post-death planning.

Perhaps my fears about having no control over the pain from dying had been contained by that empty urn, to the point that I was comfortable doing something about them.

SHINING LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT

The heavy, cylindrical stone-like container on my balcony sometimes holds an artificial candle that flickers in a ghostly way in the night, shining dimly through the semi-translucent material.

It was my father's urn for decades, sitting in Mount Vernon Columbarium until his ashes had to be removed from there in 2018 for the area to be redeveloped into the Bidadari estate. His ashes were scattered at sea. Claimants under the Mount Vernon Columbarium relocation exercise could also move the urns to government-managed columbaria, or private places of their choice.