“If you get there before I do
Don’t give up on me I’ll meet you when my chores are through
I don’t know how long I’ll be But I’m not gonna let you down
Darling, wait and see
And between now and then, till I see you again
I’ll be loving you, Love, me”
Recently, on my way home, a street busker was singing this song, and I started tearing up without realising it.
We were in primary school when you explained the meaning of the lyrics to the song “Love Me” by Collin Raye. I remembered you shared with me that this is a very sad song, because it is a song about a grandma who passed away before her husband, and how she will wait for him, knowing that they will see their partners again.
I was probably 10 then; never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that 14 years later, you would pass away at the age of 26. 14 years later, the night before you passed away, you said this – if I don’t see you, just know that I love you and no matter what, I will wait for you, fats.
And those were your last words to me. I haven’t seen you since then, and to this day, I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise and will wait for me.
It’s been 8.5 years since you passed on, and till today, grief still remains a big part of my life. I never stopped grieving your death. Instead, I started grieving silently, while reminding myself that grief is a gift, and we cannot grieve if there was no love.
During the first few months following your death, there were some of your friends who would text me monthly on the 18th to check in on me. While I appreciate it, it didn’t feel authentic; it got to the point where they asked just for the sake of asking. Eventually, they stopped texting, and I intentionally stopped contacting them.
Up till today, one of your friends still checks in on me and drops me random texts throughout the year, and I’m thankful and grateful that this friend has somewhat become a friend of mine, cheering me on through life. (If you are reading this, I just wanted to say a big thank you!)
In recent years, grief started hurting a lot more, as I grew up and started adulting and hitting big milestones in life such as getting married and moving out.
There wasn’t anyone that I could look up to for advice. Since I was young, being two years older, you were by default “my guide to life”. I didn’t cry when I started Nursery because I went to your school daily, and I waited for you to come back on the school bus. Primary 1 was a breeze too, because I was comforted knowing you were at school, looking out for me.
Grief started to hurt when I quit my first job without another job. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t. I only remembered you always live by the philosophy of “everything will turn out ok, and if you don’t enjoy life now, what happens when you die”. I’ll always remember the time you were so stressed about university that you flew off to Phuket during recess/study week instead of studying.
As I grow older, sometimes I wonder if god was trying to play a prank on me, or if it was His way of ensuring that I never forget about you. The date that you were diagnosed with cancer eventually became the date that I got married.
Sometimes, I do wonder: what happens when I stop grieving? Does it mean that I have forgotten about my very first best friend, the super overprotective but also strict and fierce sister? As much as grief comes in waves, I would rather grieve than forget about you.
Forgetting how you sound and how you look has been my greatest fear for the past 8.5 years. You have always been at the back of my mind since 18 April 2018, even though I still find it difficult to tell people I met after 2018 that I’m not an only child.
Somehow, or rather, especially during ice breakers/team bonding games, it just feels weird to be saying, “Oh, I’m not an only child, but my sister passed away years ago”
Up till today, I’m still crying each time I write a new post, and maybe this will always serve as a reminder of the love that we shared, the fights we fought, and how we annoyed each other daily for 24 years.
Maybe that’s what makes grief special.
Grief doesn’t end; we will always remember the loved ones who have gone before us in our own special way.
Let’s always keep in mind that between now and then, till we see them again, we will always love them.
Till we meet our loved ones again, let’s live boldly.
