In a few days’ time, the city’s Christian population will observe All Souls’ Day. It’s the one day of the year that’s dedicated to remembering loved ones who have passed on in our midst.

And like it happens across most cemeteries in the city, the visits on November 2 to pay their respects are not just confined to those who live in the vicinity; many embark on a pilgrimage of sorts, often crossing the seven seas to be at the special place on that date. The thing about this important day in the community’s calendar is that it automatically gets you into introspective mode. It happens all the time when I’ve attended a funeral – be it for a relative, a friend and then, when it comes closer home, for members of my immediate family. The reel is an endless one – it begins with recollections of our own interactions with the deceased, how our lives are like a ‘candle in the wind’, as immortalised in the Elton John classic, and wraps up with the realisation that eventually, we all become dust when it’s time for goodbyes. While all of these experiences are common to most who attend funerals, there is another, albeit a jarring reality, that remains a thorny issue, an inevitable occurrence that the family is left to grapple with, for later.