".. I remember.."

I remember watching Seniman Bujang Lapok for the first time , and my mom pointed him out as one of the extras. It was more of a cameo. He was then working as the Boom Operator at the Shaw Brothers movie lot at Jalan Ampas back in the day.

I remember he gave me my first experience of camping out, with his son Adnan.He taught me how to pitch a tent and we told ghost stories. It rained but we still slept out. We pitched the tent in his garden.

I remember he welcomed me into his home, and let me play with his son’s toys because he knew I had none. Even when Adnan was not home.

I remember the first time playing a musical instrument (other then the recorder in school) at his house when I was 10 years old. It was his son’s midi keyboard.

I remember he had this HUGE commanding presence which struck fear into the hearts of many of my cousins except me. My little sister would refuse to step into his house
because she was so afraid of him. The same girl,now a woman, two days ago held his hand while he asked,”You will be coming to see me tomorrow right? You take care ok when going home.”

I remember seeing him last, a month a go. A pale shadow of his former self. Struck down by stroke barely a year earlier. Ravaged by diabetes. Yet he came to grandma’s house for the gathering we put together for Adik.

I remember receiving the call yesterday at 2:30 p.m that he had stopped breathing twice during dialysis. He had been admitted the evening before and we were there by chance to visit Grandma’s baby sis. His kidneys had failed due to Septic Shock , brought about by a Urinary Tract Infection.

Haji Ahmad Bin Haji Suradi, 73, passed on Thursday 9th February 2006 in Changi General Hospital Medical Intensive Care Unit at 2:41 p.m. due to complications from a Urinary Tract Infection.
Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi rojii’on

I will always remember, Grandma crying, when we broke the news that her oldest son had passed. She was there at the hospital when he was being admitted the night before at 7p.m. She wanted to go home instead of waiting at the hospital; Grandma never liked hospitals. She never got to see or speak to him one last time.

I will always remember, waiting in the holding room with his wife, his children, his grandchildren around him. It was in that room, I could feel the commanding awe inspiring presence he once had, and I knew he was watching from somewhere.We were waiting for the Mosque representative to arrive so we could bring the body home to prepare for the funeral . Looking at him then, he was the splitting image of my grandfather. Grandpa passed when I was 11, he was 75 years old.

I will always remember carrying him on his last journey home. Adnan, Uncle Omar, the Imam and my self in a lift. He lives on the 11th floor of a 24 storey “point block”. We had to squeeze into the elevator to go up to the 13th floor and walk down two flights to the 11th floor.It was one of those old blocks where the elevator does not stop on every floor. The lift stalled on the 13th floor and the door didn’t open. The engineers arrived 20 minutes later and brought the lift down to the 5th floor. We carried him up the stairs from there to the 11th floor.

I will always remember bearing him, with his son and other relatives , to his final resting place.

I will always remember..

Along, I will always remember.

".. In loving memory.."

We all lose people we love. Sooner or later , we will. I think we ALL hope it’d be later rather then sooner. Uncle Ben passed away on Sunday. I never really knew Uncle Ben in person. I don’t remember if I’d even met him. But I have heard of him. I knew she looked upon him with great respect. When we were still together, she spoke of him with much love. Someone close to her heart. Sometimes I look back upon the years and I feel at awe at her capacity to love a person.. to love people.. to love life. This morning I read that Uncle Ben had passed. I read her words , simple words yet filled with emotion. I felt tears welling in my eyes. I could almost feel her grief just like at one time I could feel her happiness, her dissapointments, her joy and sadness. I’ve felt her love.. her passion.. but never this much grief.

My deepest condolences for Aunty Doris..From what I’ve been told, I knew Uncle Ben was a kind loving man. Through her I feel like I almost knew him. He is at a better place.

to pull something out from my bible study days of secondary school…

Sorrow usually reveals hidden depths in ourselves and in God and enables us to give sound and convincing counsel to others that we could not otherwise give.

Sorrow, seen as God’s tender touch, makes us think long and earnestly about ourselves. It makes us ponder our motives, our intentions, our real interests. We get to know ourselves as never before.

Sorrow also helps us to know God as we’ve never known him before..

Sorrow.. NOT despair
Sorrow.. without despair..

Rest in Peace Uncle Ben. Know that you are loved. even by someone you never knew.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” – Matthew 5:4