Lunar Love (84)

As the beat picks up, I extend my arm diagonally up to the ceiling with a disco finger and then bring it down across my body. I twirl a couple of times over to Pó Po, extending my hand out to her and pretending to spin her around. My family watches on, momentarily stunned.

I sidestep across the room before salsa stepping back to the other side. Uncle Rupert starts snapping but doesn’t fully commit to the cause. Even Colette, who loves to dance, stays seated. Having used up all the dance moves I know, I move my body to the beat, making it up as I go.

I’m dancing alone until someone sitting in the back stands up and starts swaying his arms side to side, snapping to the beat. The man does the Twist around amused family members, making his way to the center of the room. All eyes are now on him as he does the Electric Slide between dangling streamers.

As he gets closer, I see that the man doing the moonwalk down the aisle is Bennett. My breath catches in my chest. Even after everything, seeing him here is more than I could’ve hoped for. Bennett and I don’t exchange words. We just keep dancing to the music, our eyes locked on one another.

Following our leads, Nina and Asher finally jump up and join us, holding their hands up in the air. Auntie shyly stands and wiggles her hips. Dad holds his hand out for Mom and twirls her in place. Mae Yí-Pó and Dale Yí-Gong pump their arms up and down enthusiastically, encouraging others to celebrate with us.

Before I know it, the entire room is up and dancing. Smiles form on everyone’s faces. Some people even sing along.

Wherever she is, I know Pó Po is smiling and dancing right along with us.





Chapter 23





When the service concludes, I search for Bennett among faces I both recognize and don’t. I wind through the crowd, hoping to find a towering man in a white cashmere sweater.

An older woman in a vanilla-colored velvet shawl gently places her hand on my arm. “I wanted to say how very sorry I am about your grandmother. I was one of June’s clients back in the day,” the stranger says.

“Thank you for being here,” I reply, distracted.

“My granddaughter’s here with me. Tiff!” the woman calls out, slowly lifting her arm to wave a younger woman over to us. I look past the woman’s shoulder to see if Bennett’s behind her.

“Hi, I’m Tiff. You’re Olivia, right?” Tiff asks in an excited tone.

I’m too determined to find Bennett to pay much attention to the women in front of me. “I am, yes.”

“Your grandmother was a legend. I’m sorry for your loss,” Tiff says.

“I appreciate that,” I say, growing antsy. “It was nice to meet you both.”

“Olivia! Before you go,” Tiff says. “Could I give you my card? I write for the LA Times, and I’d love to do a profile of you and your grandmother, and I believe your aunt? Lunar Love is a gem in LA. I haven’t found any in-depth pieces about your business. Sorry to bring up work right now, but I think Lunar Love’s story deserves to be told.”

I refocus on the woman in front of me. “Wow, yes. Of course. Thank you,” I say, caught off guard by the offer. I tuck her card into my tote. “Sorry for being so out of it right now, but I’d love to share Pó Po’s story.”

I say goodbye and continue my search. With no luck inside, I walk outside into the chilly evening air. Under lit pathways, guests gather and reunite. They discuss what a shame it is to have fallen out of touch with one another and how wonderful it is to see one another again after all these years. Pó Po always loved bringing people together, no matter the occasion.

For a few minutes, I stand silently looking out over the dark, sprawling, green-sloped lawn in the cemetery. Rows of neat round hedges line the man-made paths. Mountains surround the land, serving as a peaceful backdrop in this final resting place.

I miss Pó Po so much that my entire body feels numb. I remind myself what Mae Yí-Pó said about being connected to family in a different way when they pass. I’d do anything to stay linked with Pó Po.

When I have no luck finding Bennett, I follow the path around the building to a grassy patch for the next part of the ceremony. The containers of food offerings have been brought outside, along with dozens of finely crafted paper objects.

I spot Auntie hovering on the side of the group and settle in next to her. Moments later, someone else walks up and finds his place next to me.

“Hey,” Bennett whispers.

I turn and gasp, surprised to see him standing in front of me. “Hi,” I whisper back.

Mom moves to the front to face the group, positioning herself next to a large red enamel burn bucket. “Thank you for joining us as we send goods to Pó Po in the afterlife,” Mom starts. “She left us with a list of very specific items she wanted.”

There are many knowing chuckles from the crowd.

“Classic June!” someone in the crowd yells, drawing more laughs from the group.

“In Chinese culture, it’s unlucky to arrive empty-handed in the afterlife,” Auntie explains, elaborating on her trainings from the past week. She nods hello to Bennett.

“Unlucky?” Bennett repeats.

“Families burn joss paper and paper funeral offerings crafted to look like and represent items that their loved ones might need in the spirit world: a house, car, money, clothes, a Mahjong kit, a television, and a chest to hold their money and belongings.”