In memoriam

I woke up today with a tinge of sadness. This is the third year that you are no longer around. Memories of you flooded my mind today. I do think of you time to time, but then when it comes to this day thoughts of you overwhelms me. 

I thought of all those things that we did when I was a child. They somehow stopped when I grew up. I remember how you were a man of few words; when you speak, I listen. I used to think that you were just being old fashioned, but on hindsight it was perfectly logical, given the community I used to live in. I also remember all the stories about that were told after you left us. It made me regret that I didn't get to know you more. I feared you, your silence and your solemness. However, I realized that if I pushed you a little more it would have been a whole different story. Just like how I pushed you to play mahjong during Chinese New Year. You said you didn't want to but when I pushed your wheelchair to the mahjong table and you started playing, it was evident that you have wanted to play it all along. In fact, when we stopped playing to attend to other matters, I saw you playing with the tiles by yourself for a little while before you stopped. You played so well! So well...

Still waters run deep. That is the kind of person you were. In my memory of you, you never bragged about anything. In fact I knew what I knew about you because grandma would tell me stories about you. About how you started with literally nothing, working in the drains and eventually to being a class AAA licensed contractor. How you provided for your family so abundantly and put all each of your 9 children through as high an education as he/she can attain. How you wouldn't ask for much, but to have your children bring you for dim sum breakfast every Sunday morning. How I saw and heard how you really felt when I was alone with you in RIPAS that day. Your tears, your anguish and your frustration. How, in the medic plane, I held your hands and told you that I love you it is all going to be OK. 

How I held your hands when you came out of the operating theatre. 

How tightly you held my hand even when you were heavily sedated with morphine. How you wouldn't let go eventhough I had to go. How you convulsed in pain when your aneurism took on. How you were in great pain had your left hand up the air, just hoping that someone would come for you when the doctor told all of us to stay out of the room. How I stroked your soft hair and spoke to you for the last time. How you waited for me to leave before you breathed your last.

All that is now left is my memory of you. 

I wanted to just live the memory a bit, so I myself some doughnuts and made a cup of milo. Your usual afternoon tea. I know that it is silly of me. You are in the best place now and we will meet again. But it is just so human to relive memories, isn't it?

I hope you did all you wanted to in your lifetime. I hope that you had no regrets. I hope that you were happy. I hope that you had love.

Until we meet again, you will forever be in my heart.