When we die, we are never forgotten. That much I know for sure.
Memory extends the life in death. It gives it depth and scope. It gives it hope. That is, a hope that is personalised. A hope that reassures, quietly. A hope that consoles, deeply.
Yes, it is in the newspapers today. Aloysius Pang has passed on. He succumbed to his injuries in a tragic training exercise last Saturday.
He was “carrying out repair works inside a self-propelled howitzer with two other soldiers when he sustained injuries as the gun barrel was lowered.”
It was a blunt trauma injury and doctors round the clock tried their best to repair his damaged organs and they had to put Aloysius on artificial life support.
Aloysius’ parents and brothers went to NZ, Hamilton, to stay by his side. And last night, they wrote: -
“Throughout the last few days at the hospital, it has been a difficult time for us. Every news that was brought upon us since his last op was devastating with little sign of hope on his recovery. We all broke down when the medical team spoke to us that his condition was worsening and we should be prepared for the worst.”
“We are going to lose a brother. And my parents are going to lose their precious son, who is only 28.”
SAF are making arrangements to send the body back from New Zealand. “Mindef and the SAF extend their deepest condolences to the family of CFC Pang and will continue to render assistance and support in their time of loss.”
Lesson? I trust death renders few lessons.
When a loved one dies, it is always a life you can’t let go, regardless of how old or young he or she is. More so, if he is young, with a life yet to be fully lived, and with dreams of living it to the fullest.
So, I like to think that death is not much of a teacher. When it strikes, it has no time to impart anything intellectual. There is no academic gap to be filled. There is no time for that.
From an impersonal perspective, death takes, and takes sometimes without forewarning. So, the life we know is no longer there. As such, his used-to-be becomes our how-I-wish.
Actress Carrie Wong said: “Why is it you again? but really, I want to say, it was my good fortune to have worked with you so many times. Thank you for always bringing sunshine to others. Always remember you. I’ll see you next time.”
Wishes against wishes, the dearly departed leaves behind an emotional void that is difficult to replace or fill. However much we wish for him to be around, we know he is gone. Our loved one is gone.
His life-once-loved becomes our a-life-dearly-missed.
Mediacorp actor Desmond Tan commented: “Bro, you are an important chapter in all our lives. Nothing is wrong, just that you went ahead of us like you always do as a human and actor. We will see you in future.”
And fellow actor Shane Pow wrote on Instagram: “It wasn’t enough being brothers with you this life. Let’s be brothers again next life. I love you my big brother.”
Alas, while death is not much of a teacher at the time it happens, it is nevertheless a good renovator of the heart. Over time, we recover by taking old things out and putting new things in.
We take out what is loss and put in what is remembered. We take out what is heartbreaking and put in what is memory-affirming. And we take out what is pain and sorrow in our life and put in what is hope for tomorrow as we carry on living courageously, which is what our loved one would have wanted.
Seen in this light, death is not a cessation of a life; it is however a continuation of one life in another, the two in one, with renewed hope and strength. And the candle of a life passes on from one to another, burning even brightly, but never wholly expires.
And if there is ever a lesson here, if I can squeeze one in, it would be the most important lesson of all: Take no one for granted.
I may not know Aloysius personally, but I can feel his parents’ and brothers’ loss because I too have loved ones. So, while I do not experience their loss intimately, I can imagine it personally.
And anyone reading this knows that death comes to all, sometimes it comes most untimely.
Yet, regardless of its timing, we are never fully prepared for it because the void our loved one leaves behind is a space of the heart without defined boundaries. The pain therefore cannot be deftly contained.
So, while we have the opportunity, while they are still alive, we should always treat them with the following in mind: -
1) Nothing is so serious that you can’t forgive and to let them know that they are truly forgiven.
2) Nothing is so disappointing that you can’t restore and to do so with an assurance that is empowering.
And,
3) Nothing is promised to last forever even when one thinks there is still time. So, take the opportunity given to you, wherever you are, in whatever you are doing, to let your loved ones know that you love them and love them above all things, and above all earthly pursuits.
No comments:
Post a Comment