A post by Elvin brought up personal deathly memories I'd rather keep buried (no pun intended!) but instead, I poured them all out in the comments section. The text, I share here, for I truly do think that things, good and bad, happen for a reason. And that is to make us a stronger person.
I’m very sad to read all the unpleasant encounters that everyone who’s posted here have had. But remember, bad things happen, and even if they leave a long, deep scar on us for the rest of our lives, it is but a reminder for us to be stronger, to love and cherish this life - ours and everyone else’s - to never give up on it, no matter how hard it may sometimes get.
I never really thought about death, it just seemed like a distant, dreamy concept “it’ll never happen to me” until I was 19. It was a beautiful afternoon too, a weekend, maybe very much like the one the Bangladeshi worker had died on. My aunt arrived at our gate and told us my uncle had just passed away in the hospital after a heart attack. My very old grandmother completely broke down, and I was at a loss. It was too unreal.
Sep 11, 2001, I woke up early in the morning to enjoy my last day in New York before flying home the next day. I stopped by a cart for a coffee and croissant, ears plugged in to the radio. “A jetliner had crashed into the World Trade Center just minutes ago”. I was maybe 20 blocks away, near Union Square. I remember sniggering at how stupid can the pilot be, completely refusing the thought that hey, there could be people in the building killed, not to mention the pilot and passengers. Death was still an unreal concept. But then, by the time the second plane went in, I was brought back to reality. I hurried down to a clearing near the Square to find a horrifying image of 2 burning towers. Moments later, a more horrifying one of the massive structures tumbling down. In downtown New York City. Sirens wailing, people screaming, choppers flying everywhere. The Big Apple was at its most peaceful over the next few days.
The next story is my own brush with death. Like always, death is something that happens to others, definitely not me. I’m quite a reckless road crosser. One Sat, I attempted to navigate the slow traffic leading to the Novena Church. Out of nowhere, a car came charging and knocked me down, tossing me several feet away. I was in a daze. In fact, I think the driver was more in shock than I was. I had scratches. The driver wanted to send me to the hospital. Other drivers advised me to have my injuries checked. They were just light bruises, which i eventually self-medicated. I thanked the drivers and moved on. Only on hindsight, I realised how bad it could have been, how fast I could have had my life snuffed out. I’ve been a more careful road user ever since, for my own good and others as well.
Another incident that gutted me was one perhaps 2 years ago. My sis wasn’t feeling very well but we still went out for breakfast together. After that, on our way home, as we were walking, she simply just collapsed without warning. We were flabbergasted. Not knowing what to do, we just had to get her to regain her consciousness quickly. It’s probably just minutes before she woke, but that felt like an eternity, and quite honestly, I never felt so scared before, not even during my own brush with death.
To this day, I’ve not quite overcome the sadness of my grandma’s passing 6 years ago. She’s been there ever since I was born, always caring and loving me more than anyone else. When she was gravely ill after a fall, I couldn’t visit her often (she’s in Malaysia). The long National Day weekend that year, I decided to pass on going back because of the horrendous crowd and queue at the customs. We thought we could visit her the following week. See, death still is sort of elusive. We just assumed that she’d still be there. The Tue following National Day, my grandma passed away and that remains my greatest regret in life.
