Condolences to Pr Lawrence and Family

Yesterday was a painful day to endure for Pr Lawrence, Aunt Nelly, Larry and Lorna and many of us who knew his son. Pr Lawrence is the pastor who baptized me back in 97. He lost his eldest son, Lownell to cancer. He was one of the youths that we grew up with at church. I was not personally close to him in any way but, we sang together in a choir quite a number of times. Our last conversation was at a burger stall, near his family's apartment, waiting for our orders, strangely, that simple meet was so strong in my mind. I'm 26 yrs old, and still incapable of rationalizing, describing or simply perceiving death. It simply felt awful. I was there to attend the funeral at church and spent the previous 2 nights before for the wake service. During the funeral service, his family and friends said their final good-byes. What truly hit all of us that day, was when his friend, also a patient in the same ward where he spend much of his days came up and spoke. He was steady, calm, eloquent, simply nothing even close to the stereotype that we've all imagined a cancer patient would appear to be. He describe briskly about their days together doing Chemo, the countless blood testing and hoping all that will be over and that they can live that normal life they used to know. He then questioned why he was let to live and not Lownell, not knowing the answer. He then defended that he was not asking for simpathy on the late Lownell's behalf, instead to be an encouragement for the rest of us who are living this difficult journey of life, to be right with God and truly bless every waking days we are alive. For we know very little if it is our last. At the end of the speech, I now understood in a very new and powerful conviction, what a fighter he was. I was told that he was the only surviving person in the ward he, Lownell and the rest of their late friends were in. At that moment, I was reminded of what death is. In fact, I was reminded of being a believer, a Christian, and why I became one. It was hope. Hope that out of all the beautiful joy and sickening nonsenses I've gone through being alive would be worth it, and when I die it aint too bad coz there really is something to look for to. Why? Death without the assurance from Jesus is truly the hopeless end that we are tying to distract ourselves from, through endless materialism and entertainment. Good bye Lownel, rest in peace.

Eye opener

I've reached the end of my 7 days off, which came with my night shift prior to that. Back in Penang and absolutely not it the mood to work later.

I was in Kuching from the 29th to the 2nd. I was actually scheduled to be in Miri, but my sis and I was informed that my grand dad was gravely ill. I was told to provide pictures of him to prepare for the obituary.

Upon arriving in Kuching, we hurried to the hospital and found out, gladly, that his condition improved. Apparently my aunts and uncles called up some church member and their catholic priests to come over to pray for him. He was able to sleep and eat with the least of difficulties.

I knew that he was all right after the prayer thingy, but what I didn't know was what happened during the session. Apparently my grand father was not able to sleep. He was there due to a weak heart, something congenital that he only knew few yrs ago. My aunts noticed that he kept getting up fully awake and asking some people to go away, but obviously no one was there la. He pointed at them and asked them not to stand near the bed and to ask them to stop disturbing him as he was sick. He kept naming people/ friends that were already, well, dead. Even the dude that just died in the hospital. So things got spooky, and my aunt did the thing that scared people do, to call the priests.

They managed to "shoo" them away somehow. I mean, I grand father somehow slept better and had this huge sigh of relief. I mean he's not senile elderly and all that, U can't pin point that he was 'nyanyuk' and all. Well, maybe it was due to his sickness that he was at his weakest point, that his brain matter got so messed up that he started to see things. Speak to any nurses out there and they can tell u that the dying normally starts to see and hear things.

Well, other than that, my own eyes were opened too. My grand ma was the 24x7 with him by his side. She's not too healthy herself but she was there, sitting on a plastic chair beside him, just watching over him and talking to him whenever she can. Her eyes glowed whenever anyone of the kids and grand kids came. This has been happening for almost a month. Love they call it. If I had to lose everything and have only one thing to keep, I'd say I want my family and love itself. I thank God that I witness things such as these in my life time. My eyes were opened, not at the LCD screen every 9hrs in a day, but to act of love and what it does to our life and of course, death.