Dear Mr. Yeo
I hesitated for three seconds when I saw an incoming from mum during office hours. It reminded me of a scene in the TVB drama Forensic Hero where Bobby Au Yeung's role, Tim, said to Sam that one is always afraid of hearing the telephone ring when a family member is in hospital. When I heard her voice, I knew she just cried. And she told me he was already delirious, and asked me to get ready. I slouched on the chair, stared at the ceiling. My mind was a blank.
After work I headed for the hospital. This time on my own accord. The corridor felt longer this time, and dimmer. I wonder why they need so many bends for visitors to get to the wards. If a patient is dying in seconds, his or her family members probably will not be able to arrive in time for his last breath.
He didn't look like a dying man actually. At most, skinnier, more frail. The way he slept, it seemed as if he was struggling to live. He was like a familiar stranger taking an afternoon nap. No more tubes. Because the doctor suggested to make the last journey smoother.
When I made my way out through that corridor, tears came. And I mustered all the strength I had to contain them. I told myself I would never cry for him. He was so evil, so nasty. And he's leaving now without any compensation? I know it deep down that I will never forgive him. But truth be told, I pity him. Because at this moment, his wife wasn't by his side. His youngest daughter didn't at all intend to visit. The eldest son he took granted for stood there. The maid he often hollered at flew back from Indonesia specially for him. And me? I don't even know why I was there. Did I do it for him or for my mum? Or myself. I don't know.
I told myself I would never cry for him.
Then I wailed in the showers.
It was slightly harder than the last time when I cried for you when you were sent into the cremator.
This is so tough, Mr. Yeo. I need an oxygen tank.
I shall stop here because my vision is blurring and my keypad is getting wet.
Regards
GL
I hesitated for three seconds when I saw an incoming from mum during office hours. It reminded me of a scene in the TVB drama Forensic Hero where Bobby Au Yeung's role, Tim, said to Sam that one is always afraid of hearing the telephone ring when a family member is in hospital. When I heard her voice, I knew she just cried. And she told me he was already delirious, and asked me to get ready. I slouched on the chair, stared at the ceiling. My mind was a blank.
After work I headed for the hospital. This time on my own accord. The corridor felt longer this time, and dimmer. I wonder why they need so many bends for visitors to get to the wards. If a patient is dying in seconds, his or her family members probably will not be able to arrive in time for his last breath.
He didn't look like a dying man actually. At most, skinnier, more frail. The way he slept, it seemed as if he was struggling to live. He was like a familiar stranger taking an afternoon nap. No more tubes. Because the doctor suggested to make the last journey smoother.
When I made my way out through that corridor, tears came. And I mustered all the strength I had to contain them. I told myself I would never cry for him. He was so evil, so nasty. And he's leaving now without any compensation? I know it deep down that I will never forgive him. But truth be told, I pity him. Because at this moment, his wife wasn't by his side. His youngest daughter didn't at all intend to visit. The eldest son he took granted for stood there. The maid he often hollered at flew back from Indonesia specially for him. And me? I don't even know why I was there. Did I do it for him or for my mum? Or myself. I don't know.
I told myself I would never cry for him.
Then I wailed in the showers.
It was slightly harder than the last time when I cried for you when you were sent into the cremator.
This is so tough, Mr. Yeo. I need an oxygen tank.
I shall stop here because my vision is blurring and my keypad is getting wet.
Regards
GL
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