Trapdoors, run or fall

Aaron’s Departure

It was imminent- we carried that knowledge within us throughout the two weeks, like a delivery boy meeting his package, with a destination in mind. It didn’t seem so unsettling the last time he left, Aaron. Maybe it was because we knew he’d be returning- like when you scribble the wrong postage address and expect a return of the parcel within a week or so. Of course the extent of his stay in Australia was much longer than ‘a week or so’ but that really isn’t the point. This is a heavy-heartedness at the possible permanence of his absence. The final send off of a package complete with the right address, clearly and carefully written. 

A few people asked if I’d thought about his not returning after this second trip to Australia. Truth be told, I never thought he’d be staying, let alone return for the two weeks this June. Sifting through his photos in Australia, he seemed more at ease than I’d ever seen him. More light-hearted. I concede that a picture paints but a thousand words yet, there is something about the air, the expanse of roads and fields that stretch into a distant horizon, that seem to lift his heart. So up till an hour after he left, when someone asked if I’d thought about what it’d be like if Chua decided to stay in Australia, I maintained a straight face, a resolute neutrality. If he’s happy, why not? 

I lie awake typing this now because for some strange reason, with Seinfeld blaring on my laptop screen and fast asleep, I felt myself tethering between sleep and consciousness; a hypnagogic state, you may say. And in this state, I had been dreaming that Aaron was next to me, at a now indistinct to my memory location, in conversation. It seemed so real that by the time Jerry and George’s voices seeped into my consciousness, I couldn’t tell the difference as to whether we had just been somewhere in conversation or if it was just a dream.

It is all starting to set in- the emotions that come with losing the privilege of meeting with a friend at any given time. The emotions that come with losing a friend, the (now deemed) opportunity of meeting up for a simple (or not so simple) drink. I miss him.

Maybe it was an extension, too, of observing his dad at the airport. Whilst everyone focussed on the glass doors of the departure gates, I was taken by the figure of his dad. He stood a few metres ahead of us, near but not exactly up against the glass doors. Not like the lovers, nor the youths, nor the concerned and sentimental family members. No. Aaron’s dad stood like a man, silent and strong. And then he started swiping at his eyes and I wondered if they were tears he was rubbing away or really just a coincidentally well-timed itch. After a few swipes, I figured they were tears. Aaron’s dad stood like a father, silent and strong- silent in his pain, strong in his love for his family. It was an incredibly human moment. It reminded me about the human strength, that it was and is okay to be human; that feelings aren’t something to be avoided and scoffed at.

There is no weakness in love.

I love you, Aaron Chua. You remind me of your dad in some ways, from what I observed today, and this is good in all respects. You’re stronger and more compassionate than you dare give yourself credit for.

I’m thankful for the last few days we spent together.