On hearing the news

This is an extract from by blogsite posted Jan 2 2006.

New Year's Day

It was a very difficult day. I saw the obituary of my friend's niece in the papers, and discovered in one quick phone call the fragility of our mortal state. She was 31, a star all her life, in paper and on the field. A doctorate in biotechnology at 28; and a post-doctorate in the US before she was admitted for acute pneumonia, and shortly after, doctors discovered she had leukemia, very late stage. Within 10 days of diagnosis, she had succumbed.

Exactly a month from a December 2 photo of her smiling broadly with her first snowman, accompanied by an exuberant email account, punctuated liberally with smilies, of her first snowball fight, all that's left of her body are ashes in an urn, quietly coming home in the arms of her grieving mother. The brightness of her body, spirit and mind, and the swiftness in which it was extinguished, leaving a grief that cannot bear description marked the turning of the year for me. I, who merely stood on the periphery of that vast pool of collective weeping of her family and her many closest friends, am deeply shaken.

I cannot imagine how it would be for those who love her so deeply.

Yesterday, all evening, I sat with my friend. We watched the rain sweeping through her back garden, the long fingers of leaves glistening from rivulets that ran, unbidden, down their lean green lengths. Sometimes, a gusting wind shook the moisture off, but the rivulets returned, like a persistent stream claiming its natural course. And after a while, when darkness came, we could only see ourselves reflected on the damp glass of the sliding doors. Outside, the rain had become a drizzle, but we could still hear the faint, incessant patter of running water.

posted by sfliew | 6:25 PM
6 Comments:

Anonymous said...

Dear Sfun

Just seen this very sad news. My sincere condolences to you, and to your friend and his/her family for the loss of a valuable life.

Take care, Susan
3:44 AM
sfliew said...

Thanks. I will pass on the condolences to my friend. She is now trying to cope in the aftermath. It will take a long time, if ever, for this wound to heal.
6:43 AM
bayi said...

My condolences. What a sad waste of young talent.

I can't help but be captivated by the picturesque description of the rain in your friend's garden.
2:03 AM
sfliew said...

Thank you for the condolences.

You know, sometimes the outward clime reflects the inward clime; and for some inexplicable reason, it was exactly so that day. That time was marked by the prospect of an inconsolable, never-ending period of sadness, much like the water which could not cease, despite the darkness and the easing of the rain.
5:57 AM
bayi said...

Like the interrelation between the micro and the macro worlds? Between the human and the cosmic (in this case, natural) worlds? This is an old belief, perhaps stretching way back to the Elizabethan times, but not without basis. More so when we are in a more vulnerable state of sensitivity, such as being in a state of deep loss in your case. During such times, we become more sensitive and are able to preceive many things that we don't normally see.

But thanks for the poetic description. I enjoyed the picturesque imagery.
6:31 PM
sfliew said...

Yes absolutely.

Such a period for me was after my mother's death in April last year. While I have always believed that our lives are entwined with the spiritual world around us, it was during this time that I had more encounters which I will call "spiritual" for want of a better word, than I ever had in my entire existence. And although there were instances when I felt fear and dread, I also felt protected by my mother's presence.
8:08 PM

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