an instructor's wife left us yesterday,
taken by a cancer that had brought her
and her family much pain.
this instructor only taught us on our first 3 days in sqool,
before he had to take time off work
to care for his beloved wife.
but his animated way of teaching,
his sincere and easy-going nature,
plus a wealth of experience that he shared with us
through his numerous (often hilarious) tales,
set a benchmark that few could surpass.
he reached out to us
even during his times of hardship and sorrow,
sending smses from his wife's bedside in the hospital,
asking if our training is going all right
and updating us on his wife's condition.
yesterday's early morning sms brought sadness
as we shared his pain and felt his acute loss.
a part of me is thankful
that his wife has been released from cancer's torturous grip,
but the agony felt by those she's left behind
is hardly anything to be relieved about.
we went to the wake after class,
to pay our respects.
he seemed surprise to see us -
this bunch of not-very-familiar faces
who turned up to give him
a little comfort, a little warmth.
he knows us by our batch number,
he's apologetic that he couldn't remember our names,
he's sorry that he had abandoned us so early in our training.
we told him it's more important
that we remember him,
for he's already touched our hearts.
he looked tired, worn-out,
yet he smiled,
asked us how everything's going,
gave us exam tips.
we told him to take care of himself first,
asked if he's doing ok.
he looked at his 2 children
and said with a wry smile,
"i'll have to do some repair work there".
he spoke of his wife's strength, her willpower, her optimism,
the road leading to her demise.
we withheld tears,
not knowing what to do,
not knowing what to say,
but hopefully, us being there was enough.
the fragility of a human life,
a lonely husband who didn't get to say a proper goodbye to his wife,
and 2 kids who will be spending this mother's day
motherless.
sir, our thoughts are with you and your family...