"How can I be reasonable? To me our love was everything and you were my whole life. It is not very pleasant to realize that to you it was only an episode."

- W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil (via helplesslyamazed)

Departures

I guess I must lead a rather blessed life, for after all, this is the first time I’m experiencing a departure of someone dear to me.

My maternal grandmother passed on last Saturday afternoon. I wouldn’t say it was just like any other Saturday afternoon. I came home from a night of good conversation, great music and carefree dancing at Mugic. I hit the hay around 0430h, caught three hours of shuteye before heading out for my Grade 4 music theory exam on the SMU campus. I headed home straight after, inhaled my lunch of Mama’s fried noodles then retired into my cave for a nap. Mom rolled away the boulder and entered the cave to tell me it was 4 bloody PM and that I should get my lazy ass up. She also added that she was about to head over to Ah Ma’s. Me being the sloth I am, hit the metaphorical snooze button and told her I’ll get up at 1630h instead. And about a minute after she had left the cave, I received that fateful call from my cousin Adeline: Ah Ma had left the building.

I don’t mean any disrespect, but I think my grandma wouldn’t deny me the little humour I need to deal with her departure. Ah Ma has always been the sort to put the wellbeing of her loved ones before her own. Even as her health deteriorated, Ah Ma was always saying that it was so filial of us to visit despite our hectic schedules. Each time I held her wrinkly hands when I visited, her face would light up with a smile. I’d look into her eyes, but she always looked right past me. You can’t blame the blind for these things, you know. I’d try to strike up a conversation in my halting Hokkien, in a vain attempt to update her about my life as well as Daryl’s. Right up to this point, I still have no clue how much of what I tried to explain got through to her. Then after a few moments of awkward silence, Ah Ma would always urge her grandchildren to go downstairs for dinner with the fervour only a traditional Chinese grandmother could muster.

So after I learned of the news, I rushed out to inform Mom. We were shocked at how sudden it was, but I can’t say we were entirely taken by surprise. After all, Ah Ma had been succumbing to her battle with colon cancer and the doctor had informed us a few days ago that she had only 2 to 3 weeks left. Mom, Dad and I got dressed and rushed right over to Ah Ma’s bedside. The severity of the situation hit me when I saw my teary aunts, uncles and cousins gathered all around her in a round of Buddhist prayers led by a monk. Ah Gong was inconsolable.

I kept staring at Ah Ma’s hands, which were placed over her stomach. I was hoping that they had been wrong about her passing, that her petite frame might still heave ever so slightly with each breath she was taking. It was only when I held those icy hands after the prayers that I began to accept that she had left for good. And that was also when I felt like shit. I know it isn’t about me at all, but I felt so lousy about myself because I hadn’t spent time with her in the past few weeks. On Thursday evening, I wanted to pay her a visit but Mom had said her condition wasn’t critical, and that she probably had a few weeks left so I could visit on Sunday. Well, I didn’t get that last chance. One can argue that hindsight is 20/20, but it never takes away the guilt.

When I started thinking about the times I shared with Ah Ma, all I could conjure up mentally were Chinese New Year festivities and her birthday celebrations in recent years, which all took place in the confines of my eldest uncle’s house. I realised that I couldn’t recall the times before she lost her vision. It probably isn’t our fault that we can’t, my cousin and I were simply too young to have been aware of such things.

Looking at the brighter side of things, Ah Ma’s had a good life. She had a loving husband, never worked at a job for a single day in her life, lived to the ripe old age of 82 and had a whole bunch of filial children, grandchildren and great grandchildren to accompany her in her old age. We’ve done what we could for her, and still are. I suppose it’s now time for us to turn our attention to the living.

Ah Ma, although I don’t believe in an afterlife, I hope you have a safe journey to paradise. We’ll help you look after Ah Gong till he decides to join you.

19
March

Attn: Vainpoot

I like being around you. You make me laugh. And it’s not as if you were trying to impress me or anything, you just are that humorous creature who prefers looking at the lighter side of things. Well, for the most part anyway. I can’t recall the last time I had so much genuine fun and joy in my life. I don’t need to dumb myself down to enjoy your sense of humour; and when we serve witty comebacks at each other, it never feels contrived. Neither of us is tripping over ourselves to win over the other, and in that way, we keep things real.

I relish being around you. You make me feel like I’m worthy of the things my mind denies me. I don’t lack self-confidence, but I’ve never been one to be easy on myself. Having you in my life serves to strengthen that self-belief. Your words and actions tell me you have faith in me, and that we could forge something meaningful out of this. Something we could cherish and look back on fondly when we’re in our proverbial rocking chairs.

I appreciate being around you. You actively and passively impart to me knowledge I never thought I’d have access to. With you, I learn so much about music, food, sports, politics, finance, social issues and just about everything else under the big, blue sky. Then there are the soft skills: the art of making conversation, humour, communication, empathy, basically everything that connects people. However mundane these events may seem to you, they’re a whole new world you’ve shown to me, and for that I’m grateful.

I want to be around you. You are awesome. As people always say, nothing worth having ever comes easy. Sure, I’ve had to rein in my anger even though you were being an ass to me, but your sincere apology after we cleared the air indicated that mine was a wise decision. I hadn’t been wrong about you.

It’s a pity we had to meet so late. It’s a pity I’m about to leave this all behind. But I’m sure you’ll agree that, whatever the future has in store for us, we’re definitely making the best of what we have right now.

14
March

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