[[ Stickman & Stickbabe ]]

we're just two simple stickpeople who :-
met,
clicked,
hitched,
till death do us part...


[[ All I want in 2007... ]]

Seeing loved ones happy
Mission trips
Have a cute baby
Learn bridal makeup
Speak Camb/Viet
Pay off our housing loan!


[[ Leaving? ]]

~C-Cup : cupcakes from heaven... (perfect 4 parties)
~My Bali Photo Blog
~Melonbabe (my female sibling)
~Angelia (a kid i tutored, who grew up!)
~WZB (a woman with an expensive rock)
~Get Blobbed... (splish splash plop blobbe)
~My Primary School Classmate
~My pescatarian recipe blog
~Simplicity - making a difference in Kenya
~A visually delightful blog of a stranger
~Another visual treat...
Been read free hit counters by free-counters.net times!

Sunday, May 07, 2006
Hurt #1 :

For weeks, I didn't know what to feel about my student's (or rather ex-student's) death. It seemed unreal. I felt that he's still alive in some corner of this island - living his life, or wasting it - well, it doesn't really matter. He is truly and clearly dead - I saw the last of him at his wake. No, the truth is I saw the last of him at the hospital (alive). I am going to write about it now because I want to remember him - and perhaps more than this, which I shall not attempt to analyse here.

It all began with a sms from one of my kids, who I share a relationship that resembled a friendship more than a student-teacher relationship. The next day, I went with this kid to visit TWL in NUH, and donated blood to his 'account'. All I knew was he had some unpronounceable blood disease and it was considered less detrimental than leukaemia. But he was in hospital for a month before they diagnosed his condition. And then, he was in ICU.

The ICU was a bright modern outfit. A small team of doctors were chatting away, oblivious to a drama unfolding in the middle of the room. Another person was in death throes, and his/her family was sobbing away. My student's mom chose to ignore the scene too, understandably. And my eyes rested on my student, who looked fine except for the dangling tubes that linked him to all the complicated-looking machinery around.

He had regained consciousness that day. His mom opened the glass door briefly and announced my arrival. He opened his eyes and waved at me in acknowledgement. I put on my brightest smile and gave him a thumbs-up! After a while, he closed his eyes. I said a silent prayer for him, and continued just staring at him.

He was a good-looking boy. I didn't remember him being so tall. He didn't want to continue studying, his mom said, and expressed her wish that he would continue to study after he recovered. In between talking to his mom, I noticed his eyes fluttering open now and then to glance at me, probably surprised by my visit. Probably surprised I still remembered him, as I had quitted and shook the dust off my platforms when I left that school in 2004. (If you're acquainted with the Holy Bible, you may know the implication of shaking the dust off shoes.)

Well, that's the wonderful impression of the last time I saw him alive.

A few days later, I was practising on my guitar when I realised I had a missed call. It was 2am. It can't be a good thing to receive his call at that hour. True enough, after another sms, I didn't sleep a wink for the rest of the night, haunted by that image of him waving weakly to me from his hospital bed. I had taught him for 4 years, being a N(A) specialist, and his class was special to me.

I went to school the next day, angry at God. Then I realised that I'd never understand how much it cost Him on His end. Then I went to the wake. Saw a few teary ex-kids. Had lunch with ex-colleague in Toa Payoh. Went home to collect my guitar. Then to cell group. Then home. Then back to life as normal. So normal it seems obscene - when someone has lost her only son.

Hurt #2 :

I don't really understand this second one. I should be really hurt. But I was happy instead. Because just last year, this person had blessed me tremendously - and contributed partly to who I am today. But this year things changed, and suddenly I lost a very dear, special relationship with this person. But the blessing remained with me. I should be really, really hurt. And people keep thinking we still have that special relationship.

Instead another person has taken over. And this is why I'm happier. This one surpasses the former in both form and annointing. And I'm becoming a person that doesn't look back to old things. I'm indeed quite thankful for the 'breakup message', for there would not have been a second person if not for the departure of the first. I'm not too sure if it's a backlash kinda thing. But bitterness is something I did not feel.

* I'm not referring to Stickman, my Honeybug. He's always dear, although I'm not on talking terms with him tonight. And it's not an extra-marital affair bleah... well, not in the conventional sense... *


stickbabe [ 1:49 AM ]