9th August - Our National Day

Today our nation celebrates its Golden Jubilee. It is our 50^th anniversary. Everywhere around our tiny island city state is awash with red and white, the colours of our national flag. Even in church, many parishioners were donning red, as was I in my bright red Liverpool jersey, but that was only to remind myself that my favourite football club will be kicking off later tonight for the start of another new football season.

We started the day looking for a tyre repair shop as our car had a punctured tyre that needed fixing. Fortunately the car repair shops at the back of our estates had no qualms about opening on National Day.

Mobility restored, we drove over to Jenny’s parents for a short visit, before getting to church for Sunday Mass.  Her two aging parents are not in the best of health and a visit by their grand-children should bring them some cheer, even if the sad and tired look on my face might remind them of the tragic loss of their own daughter.  Both Jenny’s parents were at the hospital shortly after Jenny died and I still remember how sorrowful they wept on seeing her lifeless body on the hospital bed. Jenny was their favourite child (I like to think so) and the pain of seeing her leaving this world must be unbearable. 

In the church, seated next to a mountain of a man, who took up half of my seat in the pews, I found it too uncomfortable and promptly dislodged myself for an earlier than usual exit to get to Jenny’s niche.  I now have more quiet time to spend with my late wife within the columbarium, thanks to my oversized church-mate.  


Inside the columbarium where Jenny's ashes are kept
 

It was nice and peaceful inside the columbarium. The gentle sound of running water combined with soft instrumental music played from the built-in audio system provided an ambience of solace that is most ideal for quiet contemplation. 

Once at her niche, as before I rested my face against Jenny’s plaque. The ceramic finishing feels cool and calming, and I could almost feel her hugging me and resting against my shoulders.  Amidst the trickling water, I could hear the pipe-in music softly playing. It was a most familiar tune - “Unchained Melody”, the theme song from the classic movie, “Ghost”.  How utterly appropriate is that? Should I expect Jenny’s spirit to take control of me at this point, as played out in the movie? I would be happy if that had happened, but the song faded after a few minutes; there was no out-of-the world or any strange phenomenon worth noting.

Later in the evening my two girls and I will make our way to the bay front, braving the crowds and snarling traffic to catch the fireworks and if we are lucky, the aerial displays.  We expect no less than a spectacular display of fireworks as this is our jubilee national celebration.  Jenny would have looked forward to be there too. I rarely bring her out on such occasions as I abhor large crowds. But my daughters had agreed to this outing and I felt I needed a change of scene also instead of confining myself at home as I do for most evenings.

This SG50 event was heavily publicised and hyped up over a large part of this year and even from last year.  Jenny was still in pretty good health during the last National Day. But what a difference a year could make because now she is no more here with us. And how my life had changed so irrevocably.

Nevertheless, I need to keep my spirits high. The last thing I want now is a mood swing that might cause me to change my mind about going out and disappointing my daughters.


We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant at Clarke Quay