As usual, I ran to the newspaper stand and scrambled for the 80 cents. The train would be approaching in another minute. Fumbling with The Straits Times, I scanned the EZ-link, dashed for the closing doors, found a seat to perk myself up with a current affairs of a brand new day. It appears that I had reached the stage of life that every day seemed so defined. If I stick to the routine, I would doze off from the papers by the time I reach Chua Chu Kang. But on this particular Tuesday, I didn't.
14th DEC 2004. The headlines of the cover page read "Honeymooners die in NZ car crash". It showed a picture of a lady. I regard it as just another common piece of news, which I would read to kill the time during the train ride.
"A SINGAPOREAN couple on their honeymoon in New Zealand died on the spot when their rented car smashed head-on into an oncoming truck on a highway on Friday.... Mr Lim, 31, was a physical education teacher at Nanyang Junior College... (More on H1...) "
Craving a chance for denial, I took out the Home page, but only to see John Lim's photo.
I always had to dart from John Lim and his gang of PE teachers when I discretely enter the gate of the school at 10am, however, trying to look cool about it. Not that I'll be screwed for being late, but they will spot my natural brown hair easily, which leads to the issue of the intolerable length of the hair... After school dismissal, he would sometimes be around to spot for improper attire at the court. Despite all that, John Lim was the Mr Nice Guy.
Upon reaching camp that same Tuesday, I informed Eugene of the news. Having only spent his first three months at NYJC, he recalled, "he was the one who gave me a massage before the cross-country..."
I seldom interacted with John Lim. Nonetheless I was utterly disappointed and sorry that he is dead. It was rather unbelievable. I carried this mentality that another person whom I don't see or hear from would ever continue to live on elsewhere on this surface of Earth. But apparently this is not true.
Lately there was the wake. I did not felt much for the deceased, only concern for the related ones. That was probably because I had never met him in person.
When I visited mum last week, I was told of the condition of her sister. My memory of her strecthed back to the time when she used to call me every night just to ask me, "have you eaten your dinner?" She is almost insane now.
Grandpa came back to my house for a short stay. I didn't know when he came, when he left, how long he stayed, not even a glimpse of his features. I only hear his voices when I was awaken from the hangover from the Maju Dinner, Zouk, followed by a beach volleyball at Sentosa. I was a dead log when I was back home in the afternoon. He came into my room and talked to bro. Vividly, I heard him saying that the travelling was killing him. He began to talk to me, we had a really short conversation, which seemed like a dream to me even now. He asked me about my ORD. After waking up, he was not around anymore, and I had difficulty differentiating dream from reality. A sense of guilt striked me badly in the midst of the dizzy spell. I should have talked more to him, make more eye contact to him, for I contain the fear of not seeing him anymore. He barely come to my house anymore, sometimes once per half a year. I explain this situation with the aftermath of the family misfortune. Everyone grew so cold and isolated. Everyone either stay out late or lock himself up in the room. Grandpa came here only to rest on the sofa, waiting to listen to the news at 6pm and 10pm. Nothing much other than that. Not even interaction. He had complaint to others that his son doesn't care for him anymore. But, dad's problem already deal him a blow strong enough to almost cause him a suicide. What more could he have cared for? I chided myself for the lack of concern. I might not be able to show it anymore soon, however much I want to.
A couple of times when I look at my dad's backview as he washes the dishes at the sink, my thoughts often run wild. I thought, what could be the consequence if my dad is not around anymore?
The vulnerability of a man is often neglected. People simply assumes that life only ends when one grows old. However, the earth continues to spin without your presence. Every mother's son is a dispensable individual.
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