Short Story "SMOKE"

SMOKE

     My grandfather died nine years ago from lung cancer. I had just looked down at the coffin in front of a monochrome picture of my grandfather. The smoke of incense was floating. I left the funeral hall as if I had escaped from there. I found my uncle smoking as soon as I went outside. I felt that strange because he had stopped smoking a long time ago. I peered at the smoke rising up in the air slowly. And then, I noticed that he smoked “Seven Stars”, which my grandfather had loved. So, I remembered vividly my grandfather’s daily life before he stayed at the hospital.

     My grandfather used to smoke a lot everyday. When I came back home, I often saw him smoking in our garden. Whenever he hugged me, I could smell the odor. He was very tall and well-built. I used to pick him up with my grandmother from the station and ride on his shoulder, however, as his condition was getting worse, he became thinner and thinner. What is more, he could not eat his favourite food with his hands. Eventually, he stayed at the hospital and never came back home. I would often visit his room to meet him. I was really scared of him laying on a bed.

     The party was held in front of the picture after a wake.  It was surrounded with a lot of flowers and he smiled in the frame. Banquets such as sushi, fried foods and sake were prepared for relatives. All of them had to talk about grandfather’s good deeds because of the custom. This party aims to give him a better future life. 

     The next day, we went to a crematorium by bus, following a hearse. His body was burnt and put in a tiny urn. The whole of funeral came to an end. When I went outside to breathe fresh air, I looked back to the crematorium for some reason. The straight line of smoke was rising up in the air from a stack like a cigarette.