Of Life and Death...

As the silhouette of the pink hospital looms at the road ahead, a wretch in my heart triggered a flood of memories in my mind. The smell of disinfectant, the white sheets that were sometimes smeared with dry blood, the green of the patient robes, and impending death waiting silently in the corridors.

I parked nearest to the entrance, all too familiar with place. Nothing much has changed.

The lift still smelled of putrid paint. As it chugs reluctantly up to level 9, I find myself trapped in time.

I remember coming here everyday. I remember turning and twisting in the armchair, tired from hours of sitting there. I remember pouring bland porridge into a plastic orange bowl. I remember pouring the same bowl of porridge into the trash bin. I remember the listless faces of doctors who couldn't do anything to help.

I remember.

I walked down the lonely corridors that wreaked of emptiness. As I pushed open the doors, I could hear machines bleeping away, ringing out the alarm that time was running out for the person to whom it was hooked to. I walked past hagged relatives, already surrendered to the day they dread most.

There he was, a shadow of his old self. His son, my cousin, fondly strokes his hair, and asked him to see who was there. I acknowledged him, and was reprimanded for showing up at such a late hour. A good sign that he is still very much alert.

As I turned to leave, I nodded at my cousin, a man with infinity patience, as he retired to the armchair for the night. I took a look around the whole ward. Yet I have no courage to look them all in the eye. My gaze finally fixed on a worn-out 80-year old man, whom I was told just tried to jump out the window in the afternoon. May peace be with you.

I suddenly felt that I could breathe easier as soon as I got out of the building. As I started the car, I took one last look at the hospital.

It was strange that I remember so much now, for I never seemed to have let his passing haunt me. Yet I dreamt of him, and had vivid recollections of his kind hand on my forehead soothing my fever.

I'm glad you're in a better place now Daddy. I'm sorry if we never got the chance to spend more time together. But it was the times we had that now made me who I am.

I will still miss you.