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/Week 4/ post is on the way and will be up tomorrow night

Meanwhile I thought I'd pen down, sorta, what happened about a week ago.

Ask anyone from the family and none of us would say that it was unexpected yet when it happened, we were quite taken aback.

4 years ago, on the 22nd of January, it was near my bedtime when my parents received a call that my uncle was in critical condition at the hospital. I wasn't too bothered by it but shaken enough to text my then crush about the situation. It was a bad night because ex-crush didn't reply my text and nobody had any clue what was going on.

They said he was climbing a tree, trying to pluck fruits for people when he slipped and fell. His skull cracked and part of his brain was removed. My auntie was 8 months pregnant with their second child then.

Uncle was in the ICU for quite a long while. At times my family would go down to visit him.

I was scared of visiting him because for one, I hated going to hospitals and I didn't know what to expect when I saw him. Eventually, his condition stabilised but he couldn't stay in the NUH for long. After quite a bit of deliberation between the adults, they decided on moving him to Bright Vision under somewhat of hospice care.

Gradually, I visited my uncle less and less. My mum was the only one who visited him almost every night to pray for him and to make sure all was good. She always told us to pray for him, for him to get better.

In the past year, his condition fluctuated.

In the past month, things deteriorated.

2 fridays ago, on the 24th of January, my mum was at NUS visiting my uncle. She went to the toilet and when she came back, the nurses told her that my uncle has passed away. An hour later, she called back home and told us the news. I was definitely lost. There was a slight sense of guilt from the infrequency of my visits. There was a sense of happiness that he was finally at peace in heaven. There was also as sense of grief because there were memories of him from before the accident, although vague, that ran through my mind.

The following night, I sat at the last row of chairs at the void deck where his wake was held, listening to the pastor talk about my uncle's life, the visits he had to uncle who was in bed, unable to talk yet still able to respond.

It was my first wake so I didn't take things very well. It broke my heart to see his young son running around, unknowing to what was going on? I wasn't sure. After the service ended it was just the cousins sitting around and talking. It brought comfort to know that while he rested in his coffin, my uncle's family was surrounding him, enjoying each other's company as they celebrated his life together.

The cremation was held on sunday.

The encoffining service was alright, I told myself it was alright. We then walked the coffin to the hearse and after, while walking up to the bus that would take us to mandai, I couldn't take it anymore. It always hits me the hardest when I see the look of devestation on my auntie's face and then the comparison of my chirpy young cousin next to her. Uncle and auntie's first daughter was a strong girl throughout. She never shed a tear in front of us and told us that she believed her daddy was in heaven.

At mandai, we sat through a service before we lined up to place flowers on uncle's coffin and pay our final respects. My aunt was the first to go up and after she laid her flower down, everybody's hearts broke. It was uncontrollable, the grief that surrounded the place. We then proceeded to the viewing hall where we saw the coffin make its way to the furnace.

My dad was carrying my little cousin. 

"Say byebye to daddy. Say byebye"