The week, in tears

Today I attended Uncle Peter's funeral service. To be honest, I have only attended a funeral once. That was when my great grandmother passed away about 10 years ago and it was a joyous occassion as she passed away due to really old age, and according to the Chinese, passing away at 100 years old and above should be celebrated and everyone should wear red. My great grandmother was 103.

Uncle Peter was only 42. At 42, he was perhaps one of the most successful person I've ever known. A Marketing and PR Director for Volvo Malaysia & the Asian hub, a filial son, a responsible big brother to 2 younger brothers (Uncle Peter's father passed away when they were young too and he took on the fatherly role to both his brothers, emotionally and financially), a loving husband, a doting father, a helpful neighbour, a good boss and colleague, a great friend and mentor, supportive, generous, fun... he was just such a good man.

In fact, I am still finding it hard to stomach his passing away. It still feels surreal and unbelievable as I wake up every morning and thought of this. The thought that out there, 4 houses away, one family's happiness was taken away overnight. For the past few mornings, I opened my eyes and prayed it was just a nightmare, but reality struck in, it isn't.

At the funeral service this afternoon, the moment I sat down, heard the funeral hymns, sermons, family member's testimonials of Uncle Peter's life, the things he said and the things he did, I broke into tears uncontrollably. When I lined up to pay my final respects, everyone before me came out in tears. I went in with tears and came out with even more tears. That was not even the most heartwrenching moment. The following 'final' moments was putting the casket top, and rolling out the casket to the hearse. By then, I was crying so badly, it felt like saying goodbye to a loved one. Only that the goodbye is forever and not see you soon.

The passing of Uncle Peter has affected me in so many ways I could have never imagined. In fact, I am still tearing as I write this. This week's events make me realize that (as cliche as it may sound) life is indeed fragile, unfair and full of uncertainties. The greatest pain of all is not labor pain, but the pain of losing a loved one. The greatest fear of all is not death, but losing a loved one forever.

In Loving Memory of Uncle Peter Hastie (1966-2008).

*

While I cry openly for the passing of a great man, our beloved country is crying foul for the arrests of RPK, YB Theresa Kok and Sin Chew journalist Tan. The draconian ISA was used again. The government is definitely nailing its own coffin, and if it really is, then I don't think I am the only one who will be happy for the downfall of this corrupted government.

That will be one funeral I am happy to attend.

There's been a death in the opposite house

There's been a death in the opposite house
As lately as to-day.
I know it by the numb look
Such houses have always.

The neighbors rustle in and out,
The doctor drives away.
A window opens like a pod,
Abrupt, mechanically;

Somebody flings a mattress out,
The children hurry by;
They wonder if It died on that,
I used to when a boy.
The minister goes stiffly in
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man
Of the appalling trade,

To take the measure of the house.

There'll be that dark parade
Of tassels and of coaches soon;
It's easy as a sign,
The intuition of the news
In just a country town.

*

Remember this poem we used to learn back in Form 4/5? Back then, it didn't mean much except it's a poem about a death. In the opposite house. Full stop.

Today, I am able to relate to this poem. Not the most beautiful and pleasant poetry, and definitely not one you want to read everyday, but it speaks what we feel when someone you know passes away. It has been a long time since I feel this way, the last time I was faced with such heartbreaking news was last year after finding out that a classmate during my Pre-U days fell to his death. I cried uncontrollably for a friend I barely know for 4 months, knowing that life is so fragile and knows no age or colour.

Ziling broke the news to me on MSN. When she asked, "Do you know what happened to Uncle Peter?" I knew it is going to be a tragic news. Uncle Peter Hastie, a favourite neighbour of ours. If I were to give a speech about him, it would be filled with all things positive. Kind. Caring. Loving husband. More loving father. Helpful. Humorous. Capable.

He passed away due to a stroke in the midst of a badminton game. A badminton game that Uncle Peter insisted on going. A badminton game that results Aunty Frances losing a beloved husband and little Scottie and Ian losing their beloved papa. A badminton game that changed their course of life. Forever.

He was only 41.

I suppose things like this happens when you least expect it to. I wouldn't know how to face with losing a beloved one if it happens to me. But whatever it is, I really am deeply sorry for Aunty Frances, little Scottie and Ian. The two little boys may not understand the whole commotion but for Aunty Frances to go on life without someone she thought she'll spent the rest of her life with... it's hard.

Uncle Peter, I'll miss having you as a neighbour. I'll miss peeking at you playing with your little boys. I'll miss you waving and greeting us with a cheerful smile in the mornings. I'll miss seeing you walking the dog with Aunty Frances and the boys. I'll miss seeing you in different cars everyday (he works for Volvo). I'll miss you as a wonderful neighbour and someone we could all count on and look up to.

You may be gone but you'll be deeply missed.

/update:
I just came back from the wake. There were many many people, it just goes on to prove that Uncle Peter was very well liked for his joyous and cheerfulness. I followed mom to pay our last respects, I looked at him. I know there is one less good man on earth now. Aunty Frances was crying inconsolably, something she can only do now. Rubbing her fingers against the glass screen of the casket, as though she's touching Uncle Peter's hands. Whispering words to him that he will never be able to hear, or perhaps he is listening from right above. And perhaps he is doing the same too. I can't stop crying, this is too much to take from a happy family... just. too. much.

Life on this street will never be the same again.

Read here:
http://blog.autoworld.com.my/index.php/2008/09/11/in-memoriam-peter-hastie/