Disbelief

Today is a beautiful day.

But somehow I can't enjoy its splendour, its beauty, its everything that's all so happy and cheerful.

My heart is in mourning. My brain is numb with shock. My fingers are moving across the keyboard silently and automatically as I type this out. My eyes keep filling with silent tears.

You see, I woke up to the worst possible news today...

It is eight in the morning. My sketch practice is at nine. I wake up, still not knowing what had happened while I was asleep. I hunt for my glasses happily, thinking what scene for the sketch should we work on today, whether I should put on that pretty bracelet my mum gave me. All the while unaware that all my friends were in mourning.

Stupidly, I bounce downstairs, cheerful and happy. I hate myself for doing that. If only I had known -

Then my mum says, "Siaw Hui, you have a sms on your phone. I think it's the same one I got."
And she has a solemn look that I don't notice.

I think to myself, "Why the same?" And then I think, "Oh, maybe it's just some prayer request for one of my friends' dad who's in the hospital. You know, those things that remain the same throughout smses to diff ppl."

The first alarm bell rings in my head but it's so faint I don't hear it.

I open the sms. It's from one of my fellow actress in the sketch and my friend, Lydia. She's saying, "Siaw Hui, is the sketch practice STILL on?"

And I think to myself, "What a weird girl. Didn't I just tell her last night that it was on?" Irritated, I sms back, "YA."

The second alarm bell rings but I don't realize it.

My mum then says, "So is that sms from Auntie Jane?"I look at her blankly and go, "Why Auntie Jane? Why would she send me an sms?" My mum blinks then she says, "Oh didn't you know - " And she takes a deep breath.

The third and final alarm rings somewhere in the recesses of my head but it still never prepares me for what is coming.

I just breath, "What did she say, ma?"

And it strikes me ever so much when my mum replies...

"He passed away this morning at 12.01 a.m..."

I stare at her, not willing to believe the nerve that she was making his death up. Then it strikes me, Wait my mum wouldn't lie to me. Which means he... he died...

The phone rings. And through the Niagarafall like roar in my ears, I miraculously hear it and stumbling and fumbling I reach for that phone. I pick it up and croak out in a shaking voice, "Hello?"

The voice that comes over the phone is equally solemn and smooth as my mum's.

"Hello? Siaw Hui? Mike here. Sketch practice is cancelled."

"Oh right," I manage numbly.

A deadly and solemn silence hangs in the air and I can practically hear Mike's voice silently asking, "You know why don't you?"

"Right, I'd tell the others," I manage at last.

The phone clicks down and I eat my breakfast, the morning laksa.

Tears start to spring to my eyes. I wipe them away.

Why is this death affecting me so much? It's not like he's my dad or something. He's not even my real uncle for crying out loud. He's just my friends' dad. He's just someone that I never was close to. Just a father figure in my church. Just someone everyone admired. Just someone who the little kids look up to. Just that someone who... who cares for other people including me...

"Why are you crying? Laksa too hot?" a voice in Hokkien asks.

I turn around, it's just my maid.

"Yeah," I lie effortlessly, wiping the tears away, trying to deny everything.

The rest of my breakfast goes down my throat and I hardly taste it...

Now I look out at that bright sunny day outside my window, beyond this computer and I can hardly feel the joy that I felt when I woke up this morning.

Tears are still coming, they'll continue coming until - God knows when.

I know that for the better part, he's gone to be with the Lord. He's happy and peaceful where he is. No more pain, he had his share of ultimate pain for the last two years.

Two years, has it really been that long? Has it really?

I hate myself for being such a pathetic fool. Why should his death affect me? He's not someone I'm close to. Then I remember -

He's the one who tried to make me joke and laugh back when I was in my mum's medical dinner. My mother was busy fussing around and my dad, who was supposed to accompany me was talking with friends from another table. I felt rigid and awkward. I was friendless and lonely and above all, I was supposed to be the polite hostess of the table.

Then he was the one who said, "Siaw Hui? Enjoying the dinner?" And then he proceeded to joke and all in that warm manner of his, that care he effuses so effortlessly until at last, I did manage a smile. And then there was him saying, "See it isn't so bad isn't it?" as if reading my mind of not wanting to be here, "There's nothing to worry. Uncle is here to keep you company okay?"

The scene fades away and I stare unseeingly at the computer.

There, that was all? That alone, does it suffice to bring tears in my eyes because of his death? Does it?!

Tears roll down my cheek and then I remember -

He was the one who prayed for me during my PMR. He was the one who prayed that I got straight As and I got it.

The memories are coming back like a flood now.

He's the one who introduced me when I first became a pianist in that warm and comical manner of his. He's the one who smiled at me encouragingly when I felt I could drop through the stage because of sheer nerves.

Caring as he was, I always found his reading of the Bible a tad too long and dreary. I hate myself for having those thoughts now. I hate it, I regret it. If I take it back now, will this whole day restart with him living?

The last time I saw him was two weeks back. He was having joint pain that was so serious that had him crying silently until his wife had to comfort him. It was at that moment in time that I made a solemn vow that I would become a doctor, that I would be someone to heal pain as intense as that, that I would become someone who was able to restore a father back to his family.

Then my friend dragged me to go hug him. I was afraid. I didn't know him. I didn't really know him. But I went anyway. I stepped out, my hand ready for a hand shake in a dignified manner. But he just beamed at me and hugged me instead.

I hugged him awkwardly at first but then the hug reminded me of my own father's, one that I have not had in ages. I hugged him gently, scared of his fragility but I tapped him on the back anyway. I still can remember the conversation...

"Siaw Hui! Nice to see you after so long."

"Yeah nice to see you too. We've all missed you a lot."

Then I added as an afterthought, "You look better, so much better. Come and join us soon again, yeah?"

Those were my final words to him. God, they sound so stupid.

I stare out the window again, looking at my serene papaya tree.

I wish the day would restart again, so that he might be given a chance to live. I know God took him home to be with him but I feel as though it's too soon. I know I shouldn't question God's will but it all seems too soon for my liking, for my friends' liking. For crying out loud, my two friends are still in the first years of university!

Guilitily I remember, I didn't pray for him last night. I did yesterday morning and yesterday night but I was too tired last night that I just fell asleep immediately. Tell me, if I had prayed for him last night, if I had prayed, would he have survived? Would my prayer, if I had remembered to do one, would have given him life instead of death? Would one more prayer do the trick in making life triumph over death? Would God have done anything different if I had prayed, would He have given him life?

I wonder how is his family holding up. His son just flew back from KL yesterday. His daughter was crying and was in bad shape yesterday morning. His wife - I don't know. But when the death of someone beloved happens, I just don't know how they're doing.

I daren't call them, because I don't know what to say to them. I'm not a good encourage or exhorter or comforter esp in things like this. I'll just stumble my way through and maybe I'll worsen things. I'd just wait for my mum to call them then maybe add a few words of my own.

I'm still in shellshock, still not wanting to believe that any of this is real, still wanting to believe that at this Christmas dinner I'd see him smiling at all of us in his fatherly way just like anything. I still remember my mum's words to his wife when I hugged him -

"He's just so warm and caring. All the kids can't help warming up to him. He's just so fatherly and he cares for all of them - "

My church has lost its fatherly figure. His wife has lost her husband. His kids has lost their dad. And my friends and I? We just lost someone who cares for us and goes out of his way to make us feel at home.

Hear these words, from a grieving soul...