The Cat Chaser

Looking at the open casket transported me back to primary 3 when I was faced with a similar situation. I was delegated with the honorable task of chasing cats away from the tentage area. We had to ensure that no cat jumped over the coffin as it may result in us having to tackle our undead grandfather (although I believed then that the glass covering the coffin was enough to hold him in). This time round, it was my uncle.

He wasn't my favorite uncle for the simple fact that I never had one. But he was a good family man. Extremely patient and tolerant, he was able to bear everything he faced headlong and never faltering. He didn't drink, he didn't gamble, he didn't smoke and of course he didn't drink and drive. What he did do was to work hard to provide for his family and work even harder (initially) to propel his own parents and siblings out of poverty. Although he had a very demanding wife whom went for treatment at times for her problems and idyosyncratic tendencies, he never left her side even as she turned their matrimonial home into a war zone and frankly speaking, less habitable than my toy room. That explained why for a prolonged period of time they stayed in hotels for months. He did not make much money, but he tried all he could to provide for his family.

I never spoke to him about politics, about school or even about how we were doing much. We met during the obligatory chinese new year gatherings and exchanged pleasantries. That was all. Whatever I knew came from stories that my parents told me. Hence it was a shock when we heard a few months back that he suffered a serious heart attack which left him with only 5% of its usual strength. But yet he persevered. Doctors told us that his heart stopped twice and yet he fought back. We knew he loved his daughter, we just didn't know how much.

It was a worse shock to hear about his passing a night ago. Apparently the remaining 5% of his heart strength just expired, taking with it a great man. He wasn't a minister, he didn't make millions, he wasn't even well known in his housing estate. But this man in bid to create the perfect life for his wife and daughter, made sure that everything was taken care of for them. His wife never worked and so he was the sole breadwinner of the family. Yet he managed to pay off a two-storey HDB executive flat and his car. They have essentially no bills and no debts to worry about. His final gift to his loved ones: a peace of mind.

But even then he couldn't let go. From what was told to me (maybe a bit melodramatically), his eyes were opened and even though the doctors pushed his eyelids down, they couldn't do it fully. It was only after my mum told him to rest in peace and move on as we would all look after his family, did he finally close his eyes (drama). I believe that he was a good man. He wasn't a womanizer (although he had all the reasons to be one) and he sacrificed his life to go back to work full time for his family after his heart attack and that may have been what drained his heart.

But I am angry. People can say it's life. But I still have to say that it's unfair. How can someone so good be taken away before those more deserving of death? For starters I know for sure Clorance from Led Dawg surely has character flaws so bad that everyone he meets would want him dead. So why did a good man have to go and not someone so despicably bad that actually backstabbed 3 people and caused them to lose their jobs? It just doesn't make sense. Doesn't balance out.

If there is someone up there, He should be going "You! the Pubic Renaissance associate that just spurted vulgarities at your client when he's asking you what went wrong. Take THIS for your punishment for getting a $2,000 fee for 3 months and acting like a big fuck!" Okay I digress. But you see my point. And well, just fittingly, my other aunt came along and reminded me why I lost the plot with the dude upstairs when she refused to hold the incense because it was against her religion. Fantastic.

Do people believe in spirits? Do people believe that a butterfly at the alter means his spirit is back? Do people believe in the 7x7 49 days of when the spirit is wandering in the house? I think my aunt does. Apparently she's too afraid to go home because she is afraid of him being there. Other than that, another reason why she doesn't want to go up home is because the place has too many memories. Which is why mother and daughter will break down frequently when they see some object my uncle used fondly when he was alive. A solution which my relatives employed when my grandfather passed away was to throw away all his stuff. Especially his bed. Although then it took some time because times were hard and they didn't want to waste money. So my uncle (another one) stacked my grandfather's mattress below my grandma's, thereby encouraging my grandfather to visit my grandmother at night in a bid to take her away with him. Luckily she outsmarted him. I dunno how. But that's why she's still 95 and kicking. Hence apparently alot of my uncle's stuff has to be thrown out too. Even if I don't believe in that mumbalo jumbalo, I'd still be afraid to stay in the house, afterall, someone died there. Sorry I hum. But I was having a backache from resting on the cold hard cement void deck floor like a bangrah because the comfy chairs were for the grieving folk. (And I just got home and it's like 12:33 in the afternoon)

But enough ranting. I've survived the night chasing cats, building anti-cat weapons, establishing forts and inventing new ways to prevent cats from turning my uncle into a zombie. I also ate alot of food. I believe that deserves some incoherency.