of Winter & Springs

Life can seem so tragic and sad sometimes. 

Just the other day, I was talking to a close friend, and she told me her father said to her "I feel lonely." Her mother, his wife, had passed away some time ago. Even though quite some time had passed, he still felt lonely. I felt sad hearing that. It's a horrible feeling, having a void in your heart and having nothing to fill it with. That same friend also told me her grandmother just passed away a few week earlier. She had succumbed to old age. And though she lived to a ripe old age, a loss is still a loss. She tells me with all this death and sadness surrounding her, she just doesn't feel like there is much to look forward to in this life. Even her own desires to be married and settle down seem dimmed. 

On the same night, I learn that another close friend just went through a roller coaster month, having just broken up with a boyfriend, only to reconcile almost a week later. How turbulent her heart must be. I asked if everything is okay.. if everything is normal again. She says yes... but there never really is such things as normal when you go through something like that. I remember this same friend a few months back. She was flying down to Singapore every weekend to be with this Auntie.. who was on the verge of dying. I remember the look on her face when she spoke about this old lady. She was like a grandmother to her.. and I could tell that she loved her dearly. 

Again, at the beginning of the year, my other half was surfing Facebook when she came across a lot of post from other people on a particular persons wall. Apparently, her friend from primary school had passed away in a car accident. We loaded his facebook page and scrolled down the wall. There were countless tributes and words of sadness from everyone over his passing. You could read how sad everyone was about his sudden death. We scrolled further down... and you see post from a day before...many of his friends posting on his wall... asking him to Wake up, wake up, wake up!!! Saying how mad they would be if he didn't wake up and buy them that beer he promised. Asking him to stop sleeping already and wake up to for futsal this Sunday. He went into a coma after the accident. We scrolled even more to just 2 days before the accident, and you could still see his last post on Facebook. He posted a song he liked to share with everyone. He made a shout out to a friend for some event there were going to attend. I guess he can't make it anymore. 

My own grandmother passed away a few months back. It was the first funeral in my family for almost 2 decades. The last person to have died was my grandfather, her husband. And although I wasn't particularly close to my grandmother, watching my uncles and aunties and even my own father shed tears of sadness made me sad too. So many celebrities we know have died too; Whitney Houston died, Steve Jobs died, Michael Jackson died, Amy Winehouse died..... Their deaths are seldom related to us, yet we feel sad too. We somehow feel a loss simply because we know a life was lost.. and it could easily have been us.. or the ones we love. 

Death is grim. But it is surprisingly a good reminder of life. After being surrounded by death, you become acutely aware of how alive you are. Holding someone you love, you don't just feel their skin anymore. You feel the warmth of their palm and the blood that runs beneath it. Being aware of death, you suddenly realize how precious, how beautiful, how fleeting life can be. Every laughter and tear seems magnified. Every moment seems so precious. 

My other half was asking me the other day "How do you think all those vampires would feel.. in the movies.. if they could live forever.. how do you think they would feel?" 

I was surprised. She wasn't the kind that usually asked this sort of questions. 

I guess it would be a lot like the greek gods. Those who lived forever would feel bored and detached. Since everything is timeless, no amount of change seem to matter. Since there is no death, there is no renewal. Everything becomes stale. Life becomes stale. 

Ironically, death makes life beautiful. 

I've never quite understood people attraction to babies. I've always been awkward around them. But more and more, I'm starting to realize.. When people look at a baby, they aren't just looking at a cute, chubby little  miniature human.. they are looking at creation renewed. They are looking at life in its spring. Where hope blossoms and happiness flows. And I guess for many of us who are starting to see one too many winters, there can never be enough of spring... 

Have a good night everyone. 

It Is Well With My Soul

We sat in silence, watching as my 3rd Uncle played a Theresa Teng song on his guitar and harmonica. It was a touching dedication to my grandmother. The song was one of her favourites. 3rd Uncle had sung it to her almost 12 years ago in the same black vest and white shirt. It was a repeat performance. Just like last time, all her children and grandchildren were present. But back then, it was for her birthday. This time, it was at her funeral.

My father was always the kind to put up a brave front. I wanted him to know he didn’t have to. I got up from my seat and walked over to him. I didn’t want him to sit alone. As I sat, he placed an arm around me, his other to his face. I could tell he was shedding tears. Earlier, as we chatted privately, he told me how he never cried when my grandfather died almost twenty years ago. But this time, it was different. We had spent the last few hours chatting, and he seemed almost nonchalant about the whole thing. But I understood my father. He was the kind that hid intense feelings behind casual conversation. It was a kind of coping mechanism. I put my arm around his shoulder and bowed my head as the pastor said the final prayer.

My grandmother was a feisty and determined woman. She had a stroke when she was only 29, after giving birth to her fourth child. Yet, in all she managed to raise six children with the little money her husband earned as a policeman. She had never step foot into a school in her life, yet she understood the importance of education and how to spend wisely. In her Eulogy, my third Aunt revealed how each and every sibling had borrowed money from their mother at one point or another in their lives. She never turned them away empty handed, even when the children didn’t always return the money. In fact, she made it a point to help out any other relative who was in need. She was every bit the matriarch of the family.

No one other than her children, grandchildren and relatives would ever know or remember my grandmother. But to her children, she was the greatest. In ending her eulogy, my third aunt proudly declared that grandma was the best mother in the world. And at that last line, all the siblings nodded and shed tears. Sad as it was, her death came almost as a relief. She had been bed ridden and in an almost vegetative like state for almost four years. She was a pale shadow of who she used to be before her second stroke. My uncles and aunts had tried so hard initially to put her on the road of recovery. And when it was apparent that there was not going to be a recovery, they focused instead on making her comfortable. The last time I visited her, I couldn’t tell if she could still recognize me. Her eyes stared blankly, but my father insisted that she could still hear and could still feel touch. So I reached out and held her hand. It was actually the first time I had actually touched my grandmother. My relatives had never been particularly touchy. It turned out to also be the last.

After the prayer, we were all called to give our last respects to grandmother before her body was to be sent for cremation. We all gathered around her coffin, looking at her through the glass. The undertakers had dressed her in her best cloths and her hands were placed above her heart, almost like in a praying position. My third aunt sobbed openly. My uncles stared in gloomy silence. Most of the grandchildren were holding on to their parents, trying to offer comfort. My mother stood next to my brother. Many many years ago, my mother had tried sharing her faith with my grandmother. But my grandmother rejected her. She defiantly declared that money was her god, probably to spite my mother. But here we were today, saying farewell to her in a Christian ceremony. She had converted almost 2 years ago, after her stroke, when one of her sons approached her again on the matter. I reminded my mother of this later over tea, and she nodded her head with a smile. “God works in his own ways…” she said.

Indeed.

I found it ironic, that my own father, once a theological scholar, a preacher and once the beacon of faith in my family, who knew and understood so many things about faith, had none of it in his heart……. while my grandmother, bed ridden and unable to talk, unable to ever read or study the scriptures, who once idolized money, could accept the faith offered to her at the end of her life.

The ending song was the beautiful and comforting hymn “It is well with my soul”. A song with great meaning, and a great story behind it. Among the chorus of voices, I could hear my father, singing it with all his heart. I was sure he knew the story of it too… And through his tone, I felt that perhaps with the way things turned out for my grandmother, it was well with his soul too…

Please let me share this song with you, and the story behind it, in memory of my grandmother. A song I have been singing to myself since last Sunday.

7 Days

7 days ago, I was caught completely off guard with the news that I was about to become a father.

I confess, I was more terrified than happy.

Having a baby wasn't part of the immediate plan, and I felt far from ready for it. I couldn't rest the next few days thinking about it.

"What am I going to do? How am I going to manage? What does all this mean? A BABY.....?"

Life thus far for the past 6 months had been so challenging as it is. The year thus far had been marked by constant struggles.... having a baby on the way made that infinitely harder.

I spent the next few days thinking about little else. I accepted that whether I liked it or not, comfortable or not, this was going to happen. This was one of those classic curve ball God likes throwing at people. So I might as well embrace it and make the best of it.

It still felt so unreal to me. But we started talking about what to do; how do we announce? Who do we see? Which hospital do we go. How much does it even cost to have a baby?

But somehow... somehow... I started warming up to the reality of it all. I didn't know how to handle this, but perhaps that was OK... perhaps I could still do it anyway. I closed my eyes and tried visualizing myself holding a little baby.. and for once, one that wasn't just cute or cuddly... but one that was my own flesh and blood.

My heart did a somersault.  I could feel a seed of happiness and acceptance being planted in my heart. Yes. Perhaps I can do it after all...We made plans for the announcement. We called our immediate family from both sides for a dinner on Sunday night. We would share the good news with them over dinner.. I'm sure they would have loved it. Heck, even I started to seriously warm up to the idea.... (not of changing diapers and all, but of at least having a little mini me..or mini her..around)

But the good news never lasted.

Because 2 days before we were due to announce it, she sent me a desperate message.

"Darling, I'm scared. I'm bleeding. Stomach pain... I'm really scared. Please pray that the baby will be OK."

This time, my heart felt more like it had just jumped off a cliff. I was driving home from Singapore... and it was at least 3 hours before I could arrive. We were not sure what was going on. We hadn't even had time to see a doctor yet and now this. From what little we knew, a little bit of bleeding wasn't entirely uncommon.. but it was an alarming sign nonetheless.

I had barely gotten used to the idea of welcomig a baby... and suddenly I had to deal with the prospect of loosing one. God and his curveballs.....

That night... and nights following that, tears fllowed freely... tears of confusion, of despair, of helplessness...


The pregnancy did not last.. and the baby did not survive.

She woke me up in the middle of the night.... and I asked what was wrong.. She said nothing and just stared at me with more tears dropping down her cheeks. I held her in my arms... and she started sobbing non stop. I would have cried too...the whole thing was just too much for me to absorb in such a short time...my heart was aching in a way I had never knew before.... but the tears refused to come out.

Sunday morning I went to church... and in the midst of all the songs and the sermon... I prayed desperately to God for some sort of guidance. All things happen for good, all things happen under the sight of God.. But why was this happening? What possible sense could I make of this 7 days of brought me from fear to acceptance, to hope, to happiness, then to shock, to anxiety then finally to despair?

I'm back to exactly where I was 7 days ago... yet I cannot act like I have gone nowhere and expereince no loss... the expereince of receiving something then loosing it isn't the same as never receiving it. One is a pain of grieving, and the other is the pain of longing. I felt completely isolated from the world... completely alone in my experience. There was no one I had confided in.... simply because it happened so fast...

And the world around me was simply to busy, or caught up with its own sufferings to have an ear...

A best friend was in the midst of a nasty breakup and looked to me for guidance and advise. Business was not going well and called for my attention. Work was no better with, with my boss breathing down my neck constantly requiring me to travel...  A (former) friend called me a cheat, liar and two faced swindler... and for the first time in my life, decided to completely burn bridges... not because I was bitter, but because I knew I wanted nothing to do with people who had malicious hearts.

Sigh.....

I'm tired Lord. Tired of so much struggle. I ask not for an easily, carefree life... only a life with meaning and purpose. So help me find meaning and purpose in all of this.