Thursday, October 27, 2005

Vita Terminus

Death is a very strange thing. You get to experience a whole lot of lunacy, largely in part of the people who gather at the wake. I just found out I have another cousin I never knew existed till today, and my job apparently is cause for great celebration, despite the fact that the head of the family has passed on. There were more instances of lunacy as well. Handphones rang off during the wake, a small circle of people chattered away whilst prayers were said, and a group of church ladies insisted on singing off-key, despite my best efforts to tell them. The journey to the cemetery was interesting, to say the least. The enormous coffin, which took all of the strength of seven men to hoist up, was put onto the back of a timber lorry, and I almost said out loud "You gotta be fucking kidding me right?" when we were told to get on the back as well. So there I was, along with the dozen or so of us, holding on to dear life as the driver took us to the final resting place of my grandad. Oh, and the red cloth hanged along the side of the lorry kept flapping into my cousin's face in the wind, which I found to be largely humorous. The cemetery is as Resident Evil as can be possible imagined, with discarded tombstones lying everywhere and dead trees littered along the way. Naturally, my uncles pooled together, becuase there is simply no way my grandad is to be buried in some mangy plot in the cemetery, so the lorry had to trek like five minutes into the place and up to the top of THE hill. Naturally. I've always underestimated the power of persuasion. Or at least, me being influenced by prevailing emotions. I got off the truck with curious gloom, but as we approached the tombstone, I knew the finality of the situation was something I was not prepared for. As my grandad's tombstone slab was being sealed, I took time off from cameraman duty and looked at the faces of the sons and daughters my grandad raised. In seeing their anguish and grief, I felt bereaved as well. In seeing their tears, I too felt their loss. In realizing that even in death, unity endures; I too shed a tear. My grief was not for the man who was laid to rest, but for hunbling experience that was laid before me, as I reflected upon five loyal sons and three loving daughters whom gave their time and love unquestioningly. Few minutes ago, when my dad called me to check whether I've arrived safely in KL, I knew that despite my grandad's passing, nothing has changed. I am thankful to have been a part of this humbling experience, and when I die, I should be so lucky to experience the same love this family has for the father whom raised them all.
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Tuesday, October 25, 2005

...

My grandfather passed away at four in the morning yesterday. I'll be flying back today. You'll forgive me if there's been a severe lack of updates.
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Sunday, October 09, 2005

Departure Gate K

This coming Friday, I will embark for Sarawak, where the dozen or so faithful to our grandfather will visit him for what is possibly the last time. He is nearing the end of his time, and as a sign of filial piety, we've all set aside time to visit him as an unofficial sending off of sorts. I never really knew my grandfather. Sure, I see him every year, but the fact that I adamantly refuse to pick up the Foochow dialect means that there is hardly an ounce of communication going on between us. I remember when he would pick me up when I was younger and rub his semi-shaven stubble of a chin on my cheeks, annoying the living crap out of me. He would always be the one to bust my chops, and me being myself, I would always find ways to tick him off further. I think I was a borderline masochist at that point in my life, doing things which I clearly know will get me into trouble, and staying there in order to be caught red-handed. I've heared stories about how my grandad disciplined his sons, which invariably involved a large bucket of water and the forceful choking of an unlucky son into the body of water in an attempt to choke the life out of the said victim. Mind you, this is a man who's weathered the Japanese occupation, and whenever he rides into town on his bike, the local townsfolk acknowledge his presense. That was then. Now, he's a broken shell of a man. My mother described him as being so thin and frail, it looked like he could snap his bones in two just by standing up. I'm not a big fan of death. I've never been to any funerals simply because no-one I cared about has died. I still wonder if religion is my ultimate vice, and when the day comes when I know I will die soon, I will wonder if God is truly amongst us, and if there really is such a thing as heaven. I'd like to think my grandad is going to heaven, but truth is, I just want to know if I ought to believe in something, anything. At least, just to make the passing of my grandad easier. If my grandad doesn't live until Chinese New Year next year, then this will be the second grandparent I've lost this year. I know my grandmother loves my grandad dearly. If he goes, so will she. Such is the bond of a lifetime of companionship.
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Tuesday, October 04, 2005

One Beating Heart

If she only knew her very presense quickens my heartbeat. If she only knew how much I adore her. If only I had the strength to tell her. I wonder how it would be if she finally found out one day. I wonder if she already knew but decided not to act upon it. I wonder.
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Sunday, October 02, 2005

Flea, Sia

I have come to the conclusion that I either possess irresistable online charm, or I am just a magnet for all things absurd. I am now in possession a vampiric female fan, whom I fear may be slightly delusional, and perhaps desperate. Allow me to run the sequence of events for you. Day 1: Her: Hi Me: ? Her: I found you on friendster blablabla wonder if we can be friends Me: Um, sure? Day 2: Her: Hi Me: Ah right, you. Her: You want my picture? Me: Excuse me? Day 2 (later on): Her: You want my number? Me: Err.... Her: *gives me her number anyway* Me: Thanks? We have traded no more than 5 minutes worth of meaningful conversation, and I've already obtained her picture as well as her number. If I didn't know better, she is a ready-to-go free fcuk. Oh come on, it's not like I'm advertising her number or anything. I don't think anyone's intelligent enough to figure out her name from the title of this entry, so I'm not entirely an asshole. Unfortunately, I am not desperate enough to pursue this, but anyone who has a PSP and drives a BMW 5 can proceed to contact me in exchange for her number. And people say I don't help out.
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