'It was time': Thai man who kept wife's body at home for 21 years comes to terms with her death, Asia News

'It was time': Thai man who kept wife's body at home for 21 years comes to terms with her death, Asia News

When a Woman’s Resting Place Becomes a Long‑Term Love Affair

In the suburbs of Bangkok, there’s a story that’s harder to miss than the endless traffic jams and the never‑ending curry shops. Picture a 73‑year‑old former army medic named Charn Janwatchakal who, instead of moving on after his wife’s passing, decided to live near her.

The Unusual Home Sweet Home

Madam Jirawan Khaosun died in 2001. Charn, who couldn’t stomach the thought of cremation, kept her body in a small stone‑packed coffin. And where? In a shabby, abandoned shed tucked away at the far end of a 780 square‑meter residential compound in Bang Khen, Bangkok. Years afterward, the shed looks like a forgotten memory of a space where the ether never quite left.

Why He Stayed

  • Love, not logic. He joked that if she was a ghost, it would be the best place to haunt him.
  • Comfort over cremation, cough. He was desperate for a place to chill in peace.
  • Cops and curfew. Maintaining a cemetery has less legal friction than a proper burial.

Some call it “a love story for the ages.” Others feel it hits a chill. This little tale reminds us that even in a city that never sleeps, the heart can pick a quiet, most bizarre place to rest.

Love That Lingers Beyond Life

On April 30, after a two‑decade guardianship, Mr. Charn finally put his beloved Madam Jirawan to rest.

Two Hearts, One Epic Tale

It’s become the sort of story that people talk about over coffee, describing it as an “endless love story.” The tale began way back in 1972, not in a wedding hall but in the quiet corridors of an army hospital.

The Serendipitous Encounter

  • Mr. Charn was a patient, hoping for a quick recovery.
  • Madam Jirawan was the hospital pharmacist—always calm, always helpful.
  • One fateful day, a single glance turned into an instant spark.

“I was impressed by her diligence,” Mr. Charn recalls. “I felt that instant connection the moment I saw her.”

Cozy Domestic Life

Fast forward: they married, raised two sons, and—check this out—went through life like a perfectly balanced duet.

  • They never fought, at least not loudly; their home was a sanctuary of calm.
  • Jirawan’s serenity was legendary—serene, composed, never losing her temper.
The Aftermath

Twenty years later, the decision to cremate was made with a mix of relief and reverence. “I’ve kept her body for 20 years, I think it’s long enough,” said Mr. Charn. The statement was more than a comment—it was a farewell to the time they shared, and a promise that their bond would endure beyond the bones.

As the locals reflect on their union, the story speaks to anyone who has felt that magic of a silent partnership—a partnership that, in its own quiet way, outlived the ordinary boundaries of life.

A 20‑Year Wait: The Story of Mr. Charn and His Wife

The Heart‑Wrenching Loss

  • In late 2001, Madam Jirawan, 55, suffered a fatal brain aneurysm and fell unconscious.
  • Three days later, she died in the hospital, and Mr. Charn—her devoted husband—registered her death and attended religious rites.
  • Why No Cremation?

  • Mr. Charn and his two young sons, both still in school at the time, decided not to cremate her.
  • “We didn’t want to interrupt their studies,” he says.
  • The family found it emotionally impossible to let go and proceed with a cremation.
  • A Loving Ghost

  • Even after her passing, Mr. Charn imagined her still present.
  • He would sit on the shed’s doorstep, read a book, and chat with her as if she were alive.
  • He’d keep talking about his sons’ exam results, whispering, “Mum is still here and will live here.”
  • 20 Years Later: Coming to Terms

  • Only after two decades did Mr. Charn feel he could finally honor a typical cremation.
  • He lingered in fear that local authorities might question the status of the body—a legal hiccup, since keeping a body at home is prohibited in Thailand.
  • “I worried the cops would come asking,” he recounts.
  • The Final Swift Resolution

  • In April 2009, volunteers from the Phetkasem Foundation in Bangkok helped him cremate the body, which had been stored in a white coffin since 2001.
  • The body had turned to bones; Mr. Charn never opened the coffin, as no odor emerged, thanks to the formalin used in the initial funeral preparation.
  • He admits, “We kept it a secret, so no one knew.”
  • Mr. Charn’s journey of grief and patience shows a man who held on to love, yet finally found solace in a final good‑bye.*
  • Life on the Periphery: The Tale of an Unconventional Retirement

    Meet Mr. Charn – a septuagenarian whose latest hobby is watching his six dogs and two cats thrive in a concrete kennel while he grinds away in a threadbare shed. He’s living out of a compound that looks like it could be a stage for a fun movie instead of a residence, with vines gobbling the place up and construction debris everywhere, a stark contrast to the swanky bungalows that line the streets.

    The Family Rift

    He and his adult sons, who are in their 40s, have never even crossed paths in the same house. Their relationship resembles a silent movie: the presence is felt, but there’s no dialogue.

    Shades of Heirloom

    When a question about keeping a “body” around surfaced – a euphemism for his wife’s ashes, I’m guessing – Mr. Charn made it clear: “I was never scared because I love her.” Love wins, apparently.

    From Pharmaceutics to Grammar

    Formerly a pharmacist, Mr. Charn pursued a degree in pharmacy, dabbled in Traditional Chinese Medicine, and somehow taught himself English. Life taught him to be prepared, and as a result, he also studied law – not for a courtroom drama, but to have the knowledge handy if his wife’s remains ever triggered legal curiosity.

    What’s on the Horizon?

    He can’t pinpoint when he retired exactly, nor recall when he achieved his law diploma, yet the birds and the shed whisper him “Keep doing what you love.” So keep watching paws, good humor, and recent herbal concoctions at the back of the compound.

    Mr. Charn’s Cremation Day: A Tale of Tears, Time, and Tranquility

    Saturday’s Emotional Ember

    When the blaze went roaring on Saturday, it wasn’t just the flames that warmed the room—Mr. Charn’s own storm of emotion did, too. He openly shared that the grief he carried had been simmering for a full 21 years, yet he felt a deep sense of “it’s finally time.” Even as tears streamed down his face like a poorly timed waterfall, he whispered, “I’m at peace.”

    Keeping a Seat at the Door

    After the ceremony, Madam Jirawan’s ashes were tucked into a humble urn inside the shed. Now, whenever Mr. Charn feels the urge to have a heart‑to‑heart chat, he finds comfort just a few steps away from the door, where his memories and the quiet furnace meet.

    Key Moments Recapped

    • The cremation lit up Saturday with reverence and raw emotion.
    • Mr. Charn’s tears highlighted a 21‑year‑old sorrow, now finally acknowledged.
    • The ceremony served as a long‑awaited finale, offering a sense of peaceful closure.
    • Madam Jirawan’s ashes rest in a shed‑urn, forever kept in Mr. Charn’s thoughts.
    • Mr. Charn continues to sit by the door, always ready to have a quiet chat with her memory.

    Echoes of a Love Linger on the Shed’s Floor

    In the dusty corners of a humble shed that carries bright blue tiles, a faint, almost greying shadow remains— the only clue that a wooden coffin once rested there.

    Every morning, Mr. Charn walks the same dusty path and whispers to the silent tiles, “She’s still here. She lives in my heart.” His words feel like a gentle joke to anyone who stops to listen: who knew that the after‑life could still feel a little like a cozy home?

    What’s left behind

    • Surface mark: a dim footprint etched into the blue‑tiled floor, a subtle reminder of where love once lay heavy.
    • Daily devotion: Mr. Charn’s unwavering affection— he carries her memory like a secret keepsake.

    While the Straits Times first told this tale, it’s a story that speaks for itself. Respectful of the privacy and feelings involved, you’re not allowed to copy or distribute it beyond this context.