Quickly, another year has passed. It was just last year when we had the circuit breaker and again, we are having some Phase 2 heightened alert or whatever that is called.
Time is something that we all learn when we were young. I learnt it in my kindergarten and get to understand better what is time when I started to go to school. I learnt what was like to be under pressure to submit assignments at a given deadline and exam dates to follow.
The awareness of time was later further 'refined' when I got to the army. I learnt how to be ready in a minute's time for inspection and how 5 minutes can change many things in sports such as basketball and soccer.
We all pledge and sing the same song that time is precious and we must treasure time. The time we have on this planet is limited and some say that perhaps the time we have in this world has been set long time ago. However, no matter how much time God has set for anyone is perhaps short to say.
When I was young, I felt that 5 years is a long period. That mindset starts to dilute as I grew up, having more responsibilities and things taking up my time. While 5 years is still not a short period of time, I began to remember more things and easily recalling what happened ten years ago - tantamount to what I had said earlier. Is time getting shorter? No, but we become more aware and dread the days that continue to fly past us even as I now type. I look at Facebook memories and wondered where did the time go? 2017 memories which felt like they just happened months ago.
The dread of time ticking by is felt more solemnly perhaps by people who unfortunately may not have long to live.
Recently, Uncle Chong, or the 'siao sa' uncle of Mrs Ussenal has passed away due to cancer.
As suave as ever, Uncle Chong took it well and even arranged for his funeral to be as simple as possible and not even wanting anyone to be at his bedside if he is about to pass on. Will settled and his post death matters all done, he was housed in Assisi Hospice until his last day.
Uncle Chong had perhaps spent many days visiting Uncle Wai when Uncle Wai was also in the same hospice, and knowing that the hospice could be where he may want to rest one day. The sofa chair that he had sat on for many days while accompanying Uncle Wai had turned out to be his companion on days when families and friends were not around.
Assisi is a serene place for patients to rest and have peace. However, for visitors, it is the most difficult place to come to.
Every time the taxi climbs up the slope to the lobby, it is another trip where I would ask myself if this is the last I would see my love one today. It was the same for Uncle Wai, Uncle Daniel and Uncle Chong.
It was painful and heartbreaking once the loved one can no longer attend to talk to you but sleep. Because, from that moment, the D day is not far away.
Although I was not close to Uncle Chong, I looked forward to going over to Purmei on CNY eve partly because I knew I could listen to the many stories of Uncle Wai and Chong. Last year's CNY eve was the last I had heard from Uncle Chong as he was already not well leading up to this year's CNY eve.
Uncle Chong is an extremely intelligent man. He had walked the globe and seen many things. Street mart some call it. I prefer to think that he is an extremely observant person and thinks and process why. This critical type of thinking sadly is found lacking in many of our youth of today. He is able to decipher the root of things and argue with reasonable articulateness.
It was thus, difficult to watch, as week after week, he got weaker. The thumbs up was strong and good the first week. Second week, he was weaving in and out but could still carry a conversation. Just as I listened, the thumbs up came out suddenly, as if to acknowledge my presence and that my crabs and I are well. By the third week, he was sleeping and woke up when I called him. He did not say anything but went back to sleep. It was at this point that I knew that the opportunity to converse with him has passed. All we could was to just hold vigil every time we visit and talk amongst ourselves, perhaps knowing and unknowingly consoling ourselves in that manner.
A friend related to me how her daughter cried non stop when her favourite fish was found dead lying on the floor one day. I explained that to a child, the sight of seeing something dear, which was just lively and happily looking at the child the previous day but dry and dead the next can be traumatic. The child surely does not know how to process the sudden feeling of loss and helplessness and that the beautiful fish will never be able to swim for her again.
I once told a student that the death or the impending death of a loved one is the most difficult emotion to handle. It is difficult to understand, let alone to write. Will doing it (facing the death of a loved one) more often make the ride less painful each time? I don't think so. Perhaps we get more familiar with what to do in terms of the logistics. But I realize that the pain seem to get worse because I start to feel each loss more keenly than the last. It doesn't gets less painful because the knife is less blunt.. it cuts even more sharply than ever because the wound hurts the same place time and again.
Although I do not know where is Uncle Chong now, I hope he is at peace and finally free of his ill body. Up till today, there was a rosary found with him and nobody seem to have claimed it. I muttered a simple prayer when we down to the hospice in the wee hours of the day he passed that I hope he be in good hands wherever he is and that the Lord will bring him to sit by Him.
"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4).