if death is kind

*ulysses' gaze theme

This morning, I heard that a friend had passed away under tragic circumstances. Time stopped for a few minutes while the news sank in. Then dread creeped through. My first thoughts were his parents - the piercing pain they must feel, outliving their child. I called my mum back in Singapore — just to hear her voice. I thought of writing about the fleetness of life, of the recent unexpected deaths of people I know. But I won't because I don't understand it and I don't know where to begin.

Rest in peace, my friend.

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri - Part 2

I received a few emails from concerned friends after my post on Hari Raya, followed by the sad poem by Neruda. I don't want to give the impression I was miserable here. We had a wonderful Hari Raya. We started the day at the mosque. Actually, S started the day watching a successful Manchester United game, so it set the tone for him for the rest of the day (in case you can't guess, he was elated). Then, we spent the day with S's family friends, who are our surrogate family here. We feasted on traditional Hari Raya food like rendang and sayur lodeh . We also had a taste of familiar cookies like pineapple tarts and cakar ayam from Singapore. Family, good food and hot weather thanks to an Indian summer - almost like being back in Singapore, no?

A couple of days later, I received a package in the mail and was touched when I found Hari Raya goodies in the box. A dear friend, D, had sent them and she remembered not only my favorites, but S's too, bless her. Two jars of pineapple tarts, one packet of rempeyek and one jar of tumpi. The latter two are practically the only cookies I eat during Hari Raya (although they are more like crackers) — S and I savored every crunchy bite. So you see, we had a Hari Raya showered with food love, so we really do count our blessings.

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri

There were tears.

Growing-up, my brother and I used to giggle when my mum wrote Hari Raya cards to her family in Malacca. It was a mere 6-hour drive away from Singapore. But during those times, we could only afford to visit them once a year and telephone calls were expensive, hence far and few in between. So every fasting month, she would write those cards to her parents and each of her siblings. She shared with us her words and thoughts. It was emotional for her because she missed them so much. But we laughed because of the language she used - Malay, only in an antiquated, formal manner. For example, "ayahanda" and "bonda" for father and mother, and "kekanda" and "adinda" for her brothers and sisters. It's as if your mother was writing in Shakespeare's English.

Fast-forward 25 years later and I now find myself at the receiving end of her Hari Raya cards. She still writes in the same formal language and old-fashioned spelling. Only I am not laughing anymore. Just grateful. And a little tearful we couldn't be with our families on this day.

Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir Batin.