Fazed by the haze

Dearest Jenny

This week, the 24^th since your tragic demise, went pretty well for me.  But it would have been better if not for that sickening blanket of smoggy haze that covered  all of our island.

The whole country is soaked in a soup of smoky haze, thanks to our neighbours
 

Honey, you are more than familiar with the acrid burning smell that invades our nostrils each year.  We have this nasty haze, an unwanted gift from an unremorseful neighbour down south.  Blame it also on our own bad fortunes with wind directions. Only that this time, the pall of misty gloom seems to hang around for the longest time.  

As before, we pray for rain. We pray for shift in the winds. We pray for our stupid neighbours to finally wake up to their senses and really do something about the freaking forest fires. But that last prayer is probably the hardest to get answered.

Our Volleyball on Sands Meetup group, which I have faithfully been attending each Tuesday evening for the last 5 weeks, had to be cancelled this week. A little smog would not kill anyone but the PSI reading was at hazardous levels. So you would be pleased that volleyball mania took a back-seat and sanity prevailed. The organiser reluctantly called off the session and off-line, we pray for clearer skies next week. 

Such a shame as I was really enjoying these V-ball meet-ups. You would not be impressed for sure as surely you would not approve of such risky indulgences on my part, at my age. Yes, Honey I haven’t quite realised my age and may have to learn a painful way!

Rest of the work week cruised along smoothly enough. Unlike most other weeks, I could not find time for my solitary lunch getaways. There were several lunch meetings with various people.

On Tuesday, I had arranged lunch with an ex-colleague.  She apparently did not know about your passing on. When she saw your picture displayed in my car digital dashboard, the one with the Lake District in the backdrop, she commented how happy you would be that I had put up your picture. Indeed you would. But I had to break the news to her about your passing on and immediately felt bad for her. For feeling bad to be ignorant about my terrible loss. But like tit for tat, she too broke the news to me. She had only 2 months ago, just recovered from cancer treatment herself. I did not know that. And only moments ago, when she first got into the car I had commented on her new hair-do and how well it suited her.  I felt then of being a real dork of sorts.  I would need to have a better eye to tell fake hair from real. But as you know me, Honey I am the quintessential dope at such things, especially on noticing about women’s subtle appearances.  You have registered your complaints often enough. 

Fortunately it was a short drive from her workplace to the restaurant.  And the rest of lunch went well enough for us. We caught up with on family and work, reminiscing how we suffered under the torments of our common ex-boss.  We offered each other words of encouragement and promised to keep in touch.

On Thursday evening, I attended my second Open Mic Meetup at the Laffios restaurant at Beach Road. How I wished I could bring you there, like some of the lucky husbands who brought their wives along. At least then I could try to impress you like they did for their spouses.

That's me on the guitar.

This second group had a few more older people, so I blended in better.  I brought my trusted guitar and treated my audience to U2’s “All I want is you”.  LOL, did I say “treated”?  Well it was a decent enough performance I think. No hitches. This song carries a melancholic tune but that was not the reason I chose it. With my limited vocal range, it was one of the easiest of U2 songs to sing and play on the guitar. It was a song I picked up only weeks ago so you have definitely not heard me sing that in the past. Such a pity.  Because All I Want is You. Really.

The meetup groupies urged me for a second song and I decided on “Eleanor Rigby”. You have heard me warbled that countless times, my favourite Beatles hit.  I thought I had all the lyrics permanently ingrained into my head. What a lousy time for mental blocks and I stumbled at various parts. It was embarrassing but my polite and stout-hearted audience applauded nonetheless. Thankfully, Paul McCartney wrote only three short verses to sing about this enigmatic lady and her forlorn loveless life. I made a mental note of practising harder the next time I plan on attending these Meetups again.

On Friday, all the divisional heads, about 20 of us, got together for our monthly “culture chat” meetings.  These regular chat meetings allow us to gel better so we won't batter each other so much over work. After gobbling up our DIY popiah meals, we sat, huddled in a circle. The plan for that day was for everyone to share a lesser known secret about ourselves. Expectedly in such situations, no one would be terribly honest to reveal their darkest of secrets. Nor even anything remotely tainted. But we had a ball of a time nevertheless. We gamely teased each other of our past, plain and ordinary as what was freely shared then.  And guess who took a leading role to stir up much of the mirth and laughter? Yours truly was voted the funniest person at the end of the session.  Perhaps my buoyant mood and cheeky display humour, lame or otherwise, contrasted sharply against how most colleagues usually see me – measured, serious and even solemn at times. So I caught them by surprise. Some even wondered if I was drunk or high on drugs!

But we will remember that chat session as one of our more fun and light-hearted meetings unlike the past dour ones.

Friday evening, I had dinner with my ex-colleague, P.  You know him, he took over my old job. We went to the Spruce restaurant, at the old abandoned fire station. You had previously ate at the restaurant with the kids, but without me as I could recall. It was the first time since I met P since your funeral wake, which he attended with his British wife.  I shared with him how difficult it has been coping with life without you.  P offered to accompany me for holiday overseas but I reminded him of his busy schedule. He should not sacrifice precious recreation time with family for my own sorry sake.  

Meanwhile through the week, the dreaded haze hung on. Like a curse that refuse to be exonerated.  Come Saturday morning, despite the PSI readings hovering at unhealthy range, I was hell-bent to pound the tracks. I put on my running shoes and headed off to MacRitchie.  But while driving through the smoky pall I came to my senses. I should not put my fragile health at risk. With every gasp of putrid air, I would be clogging my lungs with all kinds of poisonous particulates. So I quickly changed my mind about the outdoor run and swung over to my Dover office. To our Staff Gym, using the facility for the first time ever. The tread-mill gave me the work-out I needed but not the satisfaction.  I felt like a hamster. All that frantic scurrying but going nowhere. Damned haze!

But Saturday evening finished on a high note. I spent the evening with your dear family. Yes, your mum and dad (on wheelchair), sister and brothers were all there.  We got together at your brother’s condo function room for wine and finger food. Yes, I went alone as expected. Again the kids all have plans of their own. But the closeness of your family was endearing and heart-warming as usual. Again, I pictured you seated between your siblings and their kids, looking ever so relaxed and at ease. It nearly brought tears to my eyes. But I held back to stay buoyant so I would not dampen the mood. We talked about the recent elections. Yes, your siblings were still sympathetic to the opposition as you always were. We talked about the haze, work and everything. But we did not talk very much about you. But worry not, Honey, they all hold you dear in their hearts. I am totally convinced of that unshakeable fact.

I should also mention that on Wednesday I spent much of the evening till late at the Hospital where you passed on. A colleague was seriously ill and was admitted into the A&E for treatment and observation. I was there with a few other colleagues to keep watch. He recovered well enough and was discharged at the end. But it was the first time I had stepped back into the Hospital. I reminded myself not to be swamped with emotions. I cannot say for sure how I would feel if I have to visit the very ward and the bed where you lived your last moments. That spot would trigger a tsunami of pain within me for sure.

So this whole week has been rather packed for me. A lot of highs and some lows. I am sure you are pleased that I am not stuck in pits of sorrow and self-pity. But all these past-times as I have said are merely distractions. Necessary as they are for me to go on with life.

I keep you close to my heart as you know I would. Always, wherever I go and whatever I do. And there's nothing hazy about that.

Love you, Honey as always,

Hubby