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Welcome  "One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes." - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry |
Lil Missy  Once upon a time, in a land far far away, a little princess was born on the 27th day of the 11th month, and she was called Abigail. To date, she has been educated at St. Hilda's Kindergarten, Ngee Ann Primary School, Chung Cheng High Main, and Temasek Junior College. She loves Temasek Academy tremendously, and has never regretted entering the school. She is an avid MEPer, and also sings in the school choir as an alto. When she grows up, she hope to become an MEP teacher at TJ. If not, she would like to establish her own chain of highly successful candy shops. Though she isn't very good at it, she also likes to play the piano. She loves almost anything strawberry-flavoured, and her favourite colour is orange, though blue, white and pink come pretty close. Her ducky, Uncle Boris, grew up with her and is her confidante, best friend, snuggle buddy, and the best toy ever. |
tagboard ShoutMix chat widget afflies Due to my laziness, I shan't put anything here. So sue me. rewind March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 July 2009 September 2009 November 2010 December 2010 February 2011 June 2011 credits Designed by Jean-rong, some help from Anna May , Banner from reviviscent , colors from here. |
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
I think, the only instance when I finally understood death, was right before the cremation. It was only when everyone placed their flowers on the casket one by one while paying their last respects to Ah Kong, did I finally, suddenly, understand what death meant. I was never going to see that man again. Never. Ever. For all eternity. And that thought scared me. The permanence that death entails was a concept I could never have grasped before, but this new-found maturity that was forced upon me opened my eyes. I would never see my grandfather again. And to think that in the past, I used to be scared of him. To my younger self, he was a giant, a large giant that lowered over me in stature, with a big booming voice. I used to jump every time he sneezed because his sneeze would literally reverberate across the walls, shaking up my four-year-old world. He spoke very little to me, and even then, he would just "harumph" most of the time. This year, when I saw him on his death bed, the man whose silent, strong presence used to dominate the room suddenly seemed so small, and so fragile. So broken. It was so frightening. A few days before he left, he had muttered, "全都做错了". I wonder what he had meant by that. So permanent. So permanent.
because I said so at 11:54:00 PM
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