sometimes when it's really late at night, i'll remember. like a sudden flashback; those you see in the movies.

first it'll be him on the hospital bed. me in the visitor's lounge watching TV. then he's back home & all seems fine & dandy. then months later he feels some pain & we all took a cab down to NUH. he walks & talks & IS JUST very well. very alive. but he is admitted to that emergency room. not a a small clinic thing or cubicle or meet a doctor & talk & stuff. no he goes to the emergency room. he WALKS in. walks in as you would walk to the toilet or to a room or a supermarket. he lies there as the doctors work on him. he is alive, his eyes are open. he talks. smiles a little, a tiny wave. then the door closes. my mum & me went to eat some dinner. when we came back, the nurses were frantic. they were looking for my mum & they immediately bustled my mum into that stupid emergency room. he is screaming. i heard him. he was screaming. i don't know if it was pain or fear but he was screaming. i never heard him scream before. he was always strong, always silent & just there. strong. he screamed for my mum. it was real. my mum went in. in a while she comes out. then she goes in again to take his clothes that has been cut off him. they were blood- soaked. he had vomitted blood. real blood. and this blood is choking him & he can't breathe. my mum faints & she is put in a wheelchair. i see my world, i see my family, falling apart right before my eyes. it was like a typhoon sweeping up each & every last bits of my family. the doctor says they need to operate on him. he has lost consciousness. he's in a coma. only minutes, maybe an hour ago, he was WALKING. & TALKING. i should have slapped the doctor. killed him. pounced on his back & grabbed his hair so he would know how i felt. but no. i obeyed my mum & called up my relatives & stepsiblings. informed them.

we go to the 3rd floor. it's the where the ICU is. isn't that convenient? operation theatre being on the same level as the ICU. he was wheeled in. my mum was pale & weak, sitting on her wheelchair. i was all of 12 years old & sat by the wall reading a book about werewolves. i wore a knitted sweater with pictures of cats all over it. once in a while i pushed up my glasses & looked up to see who else had arrived. i was lost in the moment. at times it felt surreal. i knew i wasn't really there. at the same time i didn't know where else i could possibly be. every 30 minutes or so that stupid idiot in a white lab coat comes out from the operation theatre & assures us that they were just waiting for him to come round so that they can operate on him. they need to clear all that blood choking him so that he could breathe. but for now he's in a bad coma so he's still unconcious. you know what they did to let him breathe? they poked a hole on the side of his neck. i don't know if that cleared the blood or made breathing easier. i'm not good at this bio stuff. so he keeps going in & coming out. in, out, in ,out. my grandaunt came, my aunties came, almost every relatives living in singapore was there. some consoling my mum, some consoling my stepsisters... i needed no consoling. i was reading a book.

the fourth or fifth time that bloody idiot of a doctor came out, my mum started wailing her lungs out before he even opened his mouth. he had that FACE. "I'm sorry, we lost him." i just looked at him. looked at my mum. looked at the reactions of my relatives as they each crumple up & cried. looked at everyone. just looked. not a tear. not ONE tear. everyone hugged my mum or someone. i just... looked. i went to the toilet & washed my face. everyone was still crying & fussing around everyone. i wandered away. i went to a balcony. i sat down, leaning against a drinks vending machine. i looked at the night sky. black. then i cried. then i went back to my family. we had to settle some papers & my mum told me to call relatives in Malaysia. as i was walking to the phonebooth on the 1st floor, a young guy on a wheelchair teased me. "nice sweater." i stared at him. what kind of freak is he? does he not know what i've been through? then i realized he DOESN'T. the world doesn't know. i still look normal, human. i called my relatives. then i went to the toilet. washed my face. then went back to where my relatives where. we were filing the death report. DEATH report. he died at 10.55 p.m. on 1st January 1998.

in a while, me, my mum, my eldest uncle & i can't remember who else were following two men in white wheeling him to the morgue. MORGUE. i had never been in one before. it is freezing inside. it's like a huge refridgerator. only they keep humans. people. he is lying on a white sheet. like a mattress of sorts. he seemed happy. serene. contented. not in pain. but that hole. the hole they poked on his neck. they bled. it made him look almost alive. when we got into the morgue, the men said some stuff i can't recall. then everyone started praying & kissing his forehead. my mum did not kiss his forehead. she just sat in her wheelchair & watched. she nudged me. i stood over him & kissed his forehead. it was very cold. then we all walked out. less than 5 footsteps later, i heard a loud bang. like the slamming of metal against metal. they had slammed shut my dad into that human refridgerator.

the next day i woke up. it felt normal. i joked & laughed with my cousins. it didn't feel real. the night before seemed to have been a bad nightmare. they washed his body. clean. but that hole. the hole they poked. it just WON'T STOP BLEEDING. then they wrapped him in that while cloth. we malays call it kain kapan. pure white. clean. but the hole. the bleeding didn't stop. it stained the white sheet. so they had to rush the burial. not much time before the blood stains the white cloth badly. so there was no more kissing the forehead. as they did the whole procession & prayers, i cried. i wobbled & shook & cried. my mum was across the room. i was surrounded by my cousins. i had a clear view of everything & everyone. except him. i just saw him in white. then we travelled to the cemetery. he was buried. i didn't get to watch it as i was having my period. & you can't step on cemetery when you're having it. so i didn't. i watched from far as he went in. as they threw in the soil. i wanted to stop them. stop putting soil on his FACE. stop BURYING him. stop stop stop. but i didn't. so they didn't.

then i went home. my mum lost weight. i started secondary school a day later. hari raya was a gloomy affair. for the next 2 years, my mum refused to celebrate. no cookies, no festive food. i went to school & came back. my mum didn't want to go to pasar malams, she didn't want to go to fun- fairs. so i didn't. i grew up. i went through secondary school. did my O Levels. went to JC. then did my A Levels.

and here i am now. that's, how i lost my dad. but i'm ok.

that was a long time ago.

1:14:00 AM ·