The Month of May

It’s been about two weeks or more since I blogged. My computer was down; it had spyware installed for some reason, so I had to quarantine it for a while. My PC is not exactly ok now, but I guess I can’t stand it anymore.

Many things have happened since my last entry. I’ve settled down into my internship (I’m now in my third week already). I really like it at my office; it’s an intellectually stimulating environment, and probably because of the nature of the work, people there are quite acutely aware of social issues. My bosses and colleagues are really friendly and nice. Still, I’ve been told that I’m a special case of an intern, and I guess there are some expectations, so the pressure’s there. Work is piling up, but I’m really grateful for the kind of exposure that I’m getting, so I’ve few complaints.

Besides my work, there are also many developments in my personal life. Remember what I said about how I could do with less negativity in my life? My wish wasn’t fulfilled. On the home front, some family issues are still not quite resolved. The family drama-mama has not quite blown over. Some people are still up to old tricks. I guess it’s difficult for a leopard to change its spots.

A close friend’s family member had passed away quite unexpectedly, and had brought a lot of anguish for him and his family. It happened so fast, everyone was caught by surprise. A lot, a lot of tears were shed, and some harsh words were exchanged; everyone was grieving. It was a really sorrowful sight.

Flashback to a year ago when my own grandfather passed away. That caught me by surprise too. I remember that I was on my way to a CCA meeting when my sister called me. At first, it was “Quickly rush down, Ah Gong seems to be having some difficulties…” The next thing I knew, it became “Ah Gong has passed away…,” and my sister was wailing on the phone. I cried in the cab on the way to Changi Hospital. I can never forget the sight of the white cloth being pulled back to reveal my grandfather’s lifeless face. His skin was a little grey, almost translucent. He had died in the hospital, and couldn’t get home till the next day.

I can fully understand the feelings and emotions that my close friend is going through. The kind of guilt that he must be feeling, for not having been there when his grandmother died; the terrible grief he must have experienced when he saw his grandmother after that; the stress from all the unresolved family matters and funeral arrangements that must be taken care of when a loved one passes on; the struggle between one’s grief and the bid to move on and get back on track; the kind of questions that he must be asking himself—why, why, why? What’s going to happen now?

I tried to be there for my friend, but failed. How could I let him down? I ask myself the same question. How could I have let him suffer in his grief, and even added to it? As I face up to my own wilfulness, I’m also wrecked by pain: the pain of seeing a close friend in pain, the pain of seeing someone passing away, and finally, the pain of having added to your friend’s grief. The pain is all meshed up with the pain I felt when I visited one of the juvenile homes.

I’ve failed to help those who needed me—my close friend, his family; my grandfather; and finally, those bright youngsters in that juvenile home. I’m such a failure.