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Letter to S I apologise for the rambling. Please ignore if you are short of patience or time. Dear S I miss you. I missed you today. I missed you tonight. And I will miss you tomorrow. I am going to nag you now. As I nagged you the last time I saw you. As usual you did not listen to me. I am rather annoyed with you for that. I told you you were not fully recovered. I rolled my eyes at you in affectionate exasperation when you insisted on that last cigarette despite your violent pneumatic hacking. I praised you for eating a salad instead of your usual heavy meats and potatoes. Then you ordered some chicken sandwiches and sausages to take home. Why did you not listen to me? Because you thought you had time. We all thought you had time. Did I tell you that I was happy for you? About your new wife and newly-acquired step-? Finally, you had a family you could call your own. Now you did not have to envy your cousins. I will always be grateful to them for this. I know you wondered why so many of us were reticent about your marriage and new family. Some were uncomfortable and unsure if it would work out. They chose to wait and see before committing themselves to making a statement. Don't be upset. It is just the way the family is. We shy from and take time to warm up to such personal subjects. You were one of the few exceptions where nothing was sacred or hidden. Your open nature was what everyone loved about you. I sat in our cafe today. We closed it for you. Never has the street been so silent and dark in mourning. I sat there remembering. In the shadowed stillness. At first I kept looking around for you. Your corner was screaming out the gaping vacancy of your larger-than-life presence. You were always the constant. The rest of us came and went but you were always there. In your corner. Loud. Big. Smiling. Happy. Looking for the next victim to regale with your life story. In my daze, I momentarily felt confused. I kept waiting for you to materialise in your seat. I forgot I just saw you last in the mosque. And then from afar as the men formed a protective circle as they laid you to rest. I almost did not make it. J and I ran under a rudely swaying umbrella, uncaring of the drizzle. Perhaps the slick of prickly wetness on skin covered the deluge of tears inside. We came just in time. Through the lattice, I spied you. We knew you immediately even though you were completely shrouded. You'd be glad to know you looked small for once. Except your stomach was sticking up. You body shape is recognisable anywhere. I am so sorry so few of us were there. It was so sudden. Everyone was out of town and only a few of us managed to make it back before sunset. But everyone kept calling and texting even past midnight. Each beep triggered a fresh wave of sorrow. Getting to the mosque was the easy part. You know how the lot of us have almost zero sense of direction. We got lost looking for the cemetery. Only we can manage to miss a large plot of land filled with tombstones. Every traffic light seemed to be against us. And we lost sight of the van and none of us know the roads well. But we came just in time. I could not be near you but as I stood under the trees watching you, did you hear me hum your favourite song? Sunset finally took you from us. The wistful setting of sun echoed the mournful lowering of our breaking hearts into the water-soaked earth. You once asked me to read your fortune. You bugged me till I did. Remember how pleased you were when I told you you would find a woman from across the seas? A woman with lighter hair and you would have a family? You told me that was your most ardent wish. To have your own family before you died. You did not want to die alone. You hated being alone. It was your worst dread. No one guessed, through your perpetually hearty laughter and bright smiles, how lonely you were. I teared when you told me how you cried yourself to sleep feeling the keenness of your loneliness. How you physically shook and your skin hurt from the piercing echoes of your cries. How you ached for the warmth of a woman's touch. Not in a sexual way even. Just to feel the caring and love of someone. You prayed to have your own family hold you into the eternal night. S, can you feel my heart break? A thousand kanouns sliced through it. Your wish came true. You finally have a family. But your greatest fear also came true. You died alone. Waiting. The fates are cruel. They cut your thread when your wife and happened to be away in a faraway land. Your brother to arrive too late to fetch you for breakfast. On the way to you, I whispered a litany of prayers. Please, please do not let him have been alone. I prayed that someone was with you. I hoped your wife had returned home. I knew it was unlikely, but -like, I prayed for a miracle. Please God, please do not have let him be alone. I know he would be so frightened. Please don't let him be alone. My heart almost crumpled in sorrow like yours did in loneliness when I found out you were found alone on the quiet pavement underneath your house. You should have waited. Didn't I promised you I would come back so you could take some studio photos of me? You wanted to show off your new camera, lights and backdrop. Why did you not wait for me? A butterfly just flew into my room. It is a big, fat, brown one. Is that you? Have you come to visit me? Are you trying to tell me not to cry? If I try to sleep now, will you land on my cheek to keep watch over my dreams? Will you guide them so I can remember all our moments together? I have the CD of the last batch of photos you took of me. It has been in my bag since I last saw you. Hundreds of them. But none of you in it. How could there be? You were always behind the camera. You spent so much time recording beautiful memories of us, we never realised there were none of you. I have been sifting through all of them for the last few hours. Not one had you in it. We took you for granted. I took you for granted. I do not want to end this letter to you, S. You are still there. Perched on my ghalabeeya, watching me. If I end these words, would you fly away? If you are frightened and lonely, take some photos to record your dark journey. So you can show them to me when I see you next. And this time, try to be in some of them. The butterfly has left. It circled me a few times. I suppose you are tired and have to go. I will not be selfish. Go well. Walk well. Rest well. I shall be here if you are lonely. Ena lil allah wa allieh ragaoun. In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people. |
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6/18/2008 4:54 pm |
my condolences...I felt your sorrow. once an oldhoglover, always an oldhoglover!
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6/19/2008 5:00 am |
I should not have disturbed your dialogue with uncle S. But my eyes wetted while reading the post. Life is so transient and full of uncertainty. Even the sky was shedding tears for the hasty farewell he made to the world. May he rest in peace! You are in my thoughts. Jie Ai(Yi Zhi Ai Shang, Shun Ying Bian Gu), jie jie! 
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I remember his smile--such joy in his face when he watched you dance. May he be in Paradise now, unafraid and not alone anymore. I'm dyslexic. I scream Ho Dog instead of Oh God in the throes of passion.
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I came back to this blog today while the child is napping and wanted to quickly tell you how touching your tribute is. Raw and honest and heartfelt and sincere- I offer my deepest sympathies. Cheers! 
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Thank you, everyone, for your kind words and wishes. We appreciate them all and will hold them dear. MM, yes, his smile lit up the room. I am thinking of doing a photo exhibition of his pictures of all the events at the cafe sometime this year. We are still taking things slow. And yes, I rather think S is happily snapping pictures somewhere now. That would be his idea of Paradise. In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people.
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