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Tuesday, 4 December 2007
Yesterday marked the one month anniversary of my grand uncle's passing. Affectionately known as 'Tok Anjang' by my family, he died on the 5th of november 2007 at Singapore General Hospital. He was eighty years old.
For as long as I can remember he had been with my family. I never did get to see my grandparents when they were alive, so he had been like a grandparent to me. I always heard tales of him bringing me and my brother out to play and go for walks when I was but a wee lad. My uncles and aunts told me that he used to walk all over Singapore; he preferred to walk than to take public transportation.
A few days prior to his demise, I had noticed he hadn't touched his food in days. The maid dismissed it as fussiness on his part. But surely there was something wrong. I told my mother and she told me that there was an old superstition that in a 100 days after noticing something wrong, it would signal that the time for that family member is nearing. Surely enough, on the evening of the 2nd of november, he looked terribly in pain. I had this gut feeling that he would be going soon.
I informed my dad and he promptly called the relatives. They came, made a huge fuss over it and after what seemed like a long time, an ambulance was called to hospitalise him. My mother told me that while he was in the ambulance, he felt terribly frightened but my mother was there to comfort him. Over the next few days the doctors and medical staff tried to feed him but he just wouldn't eat. Only then did we realise that he didn't want to eat, he couldn't. His tongue was dried shut. I could only imagine the agony he was in; he moaned and couldn't sleep. Whenever we visited he said he couldn't take it and wanted to go home. It really broke my heart to see him in such a weakend and helpless state. All we could do was watch and hope for the best. Sometimes we tried to give him sips of water through a straw and he looked very happy when he drank it.
On the day of his death, I was going to work after school. I took a train and passed by Outram Park station, I could've visited him. I kept telling myself, next time. I regretted my decision ever since. Later that night, the hospital called up informing us that he had difficulty breathing. Shortly after that, we received another call from the hospital. He was gone.
There's a void in my heart and in my head. I was so used to seeing him sitting at his chair in the living room whenever I came home. Now that he's gone, emptiness is all I feel. Every time I walk into the living room, I glance at his usual spot, trying to visualise him there.
Soon after the family started having visions. Mum says he visited her afew days later. He was standing by her bed. She didn't feel scared, she only felt peace. The maid said she dreamt of him asking her to water the plants. We interpreted it as he wanted us to visit him and pour water over his grave, which is a way how muslims pay our respects.
I miss my grand uncle. I miss the stories he used to tell me about his odd jobs. I miss the japanese folk songs he used to sing out of boredom. I even miss the way he used to hide around cowering in fear as he was trying to avoid the imaginary policemen, soldiers, doctors and priests who frequently tormented his poor and senile mind. I miss the way he used to argue with the maid and curse and swear for no apparent reason.
I have to admit, he wasn't the best role model around, but he did teach me something. To never settle for what you have. Strive for the better and dare to dream but most importantly, to treasure life and those among you.
Live your life to the fullest.
Voiced.@ 20:18:00
Yesterday marked the one month anniversary of my grand uncle's passing. Affectionately known as 'Tok Anjang' by my family, he died on the 5th of november 2007 at Singapore General Hospital. He was eighty years old.
For as long as I can remember he had been with my family. I never did get to see my grandparents when they were alive, so he had been like a grandparent to me. I always heard tales of him bringing me and my brother out to play and go for walks when I was but a wee lad. My uncles and aunts told me that he used to walk all over Singapore; he preferred to walk than to take public transportation.
A few days prior to his demise, I had noticed he hadn't touched his food in days. The maid dismissed it as fussiness on his part. But surely there was something wrong. I told my mother and she told me that there was an old superstition that in a 100 days after noticing something wrong, it would signal that the time for that family member is nearing. Surely enough, on the evening of the 2nd of november, he looked terribly in pain. I had this gut feeling that he would be going soon.
I informed my dad and he promptly called the relatives. They came, made a huge fuss over it and after what seemed like a long time, an ambulance was called to hospitalise him. My mother told me that while he was in the ambulance, he felt terribly frightened but my mother was there to comfort him. Over the next few days the doctors and medical staff tried to feed him but he just wouldn't eat. Only then did we realise that he didn't want to eat, he couldn't. His tongue was dried shut. I could only imagine the agony he was in; he moaned and couldn't sleep. Whenever we visited he said he couldn't take it and wanted to go home. It really broke my heart to see him in such a weakend and helpless state. All we could do was watch and hope for the best. Sometimes we tried to give him sips of water through a straw and he looked very happy when he drank it.
On the day of his death, I was going to work after school. I took a train and passed by Outram Park station, I could've visited him. I kept telling myself, next time. I regretted my decision ever since. Later that night, the hospital called up informing us that he had difficulty breathing. Shortly after that, we received another call from the hospital. He was gone.
There's a void in my heart and in my head. I was so used to seeing him sitting at his chair in the living room whenever I came home. Now that he's gone, emptiness is all I feel. Every time I walk into the living room, I glance at his usual spot, trying to visualise him there.
Soon after the family started having visions. Mum says he visited her afew days later. He was standing by her bed. She didn't feel scared, she only felt peace. The maid said she dreamt of him asking her to water the plants. We interpreted it as he wanted us to visit him and pour water over his grave, which is a way how muslims pay our respects.
I miss my grand uncle. I miss the stories he used to tell me about his odd jobs. I miss the japanese folk songs he used to sing out of boredom. I even miss the way he used to hide around cowering in fear as he was trying to avoid the imaginary policemen, soldiers, doctors and priests who frequently tormented his poor and senile mind. I miss the way he used to argue with the maid and curse and swear for no apparent reason.
I have to admit, he wasn't the best role model around, but he did teach me something. To never settle for what you have. Strive for the better and dare to dream but most importantly, to treasure life and those among you.
Live your life to the fullest.
Labels: family
Voiced.@ 20:18:00
