Fragility

Call me ignorant.

But as I was just laying about in bed just a moment ago, I was thinking about the consequences of this flooding that’s going on in Queensland right about now. How many homes and lives that were lost.

And I thought, what if I went out there to see the floods and its damage? I know I’m exaggerating but if all of a sudden a huge tsunami came in out of nowhere and drifted everyone away?

But this isn’t about me. No.

It makes me think how fragile a human life is. One can be beaten, bruised and bled; but there is only so much one can bear. In a lifetime, a person will suffer – albeit, one’s suffering might not be the exact or even similar of the next persons suffering. But it’s tragic to know that as tolerant as a being may be, it can still be broken.

I can’t even begin to imagine if someone I held close were to lose their life. No, not even close… anybody. I can’t even begin to fathom the hardships I’d have to bear if I knew someone were to pass away.

If I know anything about myself, it’s that I don’t handle death very well. I may hold it at an arm’s length, but in truth if I were to ever face a situation similar to that I know I will surely be at an emotional loss.

I consider myself very lucky. Few people in my life have passed away, and those few may not even be directly associated with me or I have kept very rare contact with, if at all.

The first ever funeral I ever attended was when I was a young, I don’t remember what exact age. But it was the passing of the grandfather of a family that was very close to ours. I never spoke to this man, nor do I remember his face. As far as I knew at the time, he had two daughters and four granddaughters, two of these granddaughters were of my age or older.

Every year around chinese new year our family would visit theirs for dinner and share past memories. But then one year, the grandfather of the house passed away. The funeral was held somewhere where there were was lots of land and few trees.

It was very far away, the adults made and brought his favourite foods as offerings. The procession took a long time but I had no clue what was going on. Until they brought out the casket and lowered him into the ground.

I remember being very sad.

I also remember speaking to a good friend a long time ago, he told me that sometimes children are the most cruel creatures of all.

And in this sense he was right. His two older granddaughters were complaining that they were tired, bored and wanted to go home. It was unjust on their part to have such behaviour. I think that is the main reason I was sad that day.

Then there was a good friend of my father.

He died of cancer in the hospital. Our families used to go fishing together. His wife and my mother were also good friends and they’d always bring along pots, chopping boards and knives. Readying the fish that was freshly caught and brought in to make soup. They’d bring rice and a mat and bowls and chopsticks. We would fish until the morning. It’s a shame this only ever happened once.

I asked mother one day I if I could visit him in the hospital. But she said he was too sickly for me to visit and I’d be rather upset.

He passed away not so long after. I didn’t attend his funeral.

Then there was Mr Luu. A valued teacher at my Vietnamese school I used to attend. He was a nice man. Helping out with the tuckshop where he needed and did extra tutoring for the Vietnamese students and also worked for the primary school that I attended.

I was hopeless at counting money. It was he who was patient enough to teach me to count money. He was a good friend of grandfathers and he was grateful for helping me learn. Back then grandfather would lose patience for I was slow to learn how to count.

He, too, also died from cancer. And I didn’t attend his funeral either.

Then there was the old lady. I don’t know her name, but I’ve been told that she was friends with my mother when mother was young. When I was born, I was given a gift. The only gift I ever received from this woman. It was a mirror. A round mirror with padded material with prints of flowers and vines on it and surrounded by some pretty lace. Mum keeps that mirror in the drawer next to her bed.

I went to visit her when she was sick in the hospital. I had no idea who she was. But she was so thin and frail. Looking at her scared me a little so I fiddled with the pokemon that was hanging off my wallet at the time.

She passed away a few days later. I didn’t attend her funeral.

Then there was Jason’s friend. I don’t know this person, but his story breaks my heart.

He was stabbed several times, in the back and legs, while he was out with his girlfriend. He was hospitalized and unconscious for a few days. He passed away soon afterwards. The day after he passed away was raining and storming.

Shortly after his passing, his girlfriend committed suicide. Jason will not tell me how she suicided.
I don’t know of any of the details of their funerals, nor do I know these people to share my condolences with.

I apologize for such a miserable train of thought.

Goodnight everyone.