I process towards the front of the chapel admiring the lily white casket, adorned with silver cherubim and matching ornaments. My heavy feet slowly move one in front of the other until I finally arrive to venerate my great-grandmother. Lowering myself, my head falls down to kiss her cold white hand, stained with raisin-colored bruises. A sweet and tender kiss. I reverently adore the pale face of my beloved, and am calmed by warm waves of cassia and cloves radiating from the displays of ivory stocks standing vigil beside her lifeless body. Just as angels continuously cense the heavenly altar with snowy plumes of incense, the scent of the flowers continuously perfume the remains of my “nanay”. I reminisce of the many memories made with her; how various they are! My mind runs through many recollections, a mental collage that warms and sorrows my heart at the same time. I lament for her, my poor great-grandma, and pray for her salvation, asking for God to deliver her from the fires of purgatory. Continuing to behold her soft, delicate features, briny tears fill my eyes, and pool down my cheeks. At last, my composure is found, and I lovingly kiss her forehead for the last time, though it only feels like the first, and walk back, holding back my woeful weeping.