It has been a difficult first few days without you.
You were such a homebody when you were around and your absence now is painfully amplified.
On our first dinner without you, we sat around the dining table with simple hawker fare. Rojak, trotters in sauce, popiah, chicken chop. These were the same stuff that we would usually buy when you were around.
Everyone was present, except you.
No one was in the mood to eat, drink or talk. But the children needed to be fed. Tasks needed to be communicated. Chores needed to be done.
And life had to go on.
So, in our attempts at normalcy, we chatted a little here and there, trying hard to ignore the fact that your favourite spot on the sofa would now be permanently empty.
That night and the few nights after, everyone stayed over and the house was always full of people and noise. We talked, cried, and though we didn't think it possible, even laughed. After a full week of inactivity, the tv was also gradually switched back on.
But even amidst these chatters and activities, the silence from your absence was deafening.
As if the whole house was covered by a shroud, and rightfully so, the atmosphere was heavy, listless and gloomy.
We were plagued by pain in our hearts and tears that sprang so easily to our eyes.
We wanted to shut the world out and avoid all contact with people who would ask questions and pry for answers.
We wanted to sit in a corner and wallow in grief.
We wanted to cry our hearts out and wail in despair.
But instead, we got on with life as best as we could. We went marketing, brought the children out, attended parent-teacher meets, and had our dinner outside. We began cooking at home, resumed regular sleeping hours, and went back to work and school.
As we enter this new phase of life after your sudden departure, we will need to learn and re-adjust to several aspects in our life. Changes that are difficult, but that we have no choice but to learn to adapt.
Because, after the tentages and tables are cleared from the void deck, after the wreaths discarded and the flowers withered away, after the guests and relatives have left back to their own lives, we would be the ones returning home to everything that you had left behind.
As painful as it is, it doesn't matter that we are not yet ready to enter this new phase of life. Life has to carry on. Even if it is one that is without you.
As the family gather around to help each other climb our way out from this period of grief, I hope that you see the unity of the family that you had built, and the Hainanese legacy that you had left behind.
You were not my father by birth, but you became one through the years.
I will miss you and your ever present presence at home.
Rest in peace, Father.
