Eating: Nothing
Drinking: Diet pepsi
Chatting: Not online
When Kit called me up on Saturday night, I didn't expect him to tell me what he did. It still hasn't sunken in or registered for me emotionally. He called to tell me that a good frield of mine from years back, Marc, had died. I feel guilty that I can't shed a tear for Marc even though I can do so easily normally. What does it take to shed a tear for an old friend?
I think it might be my little experience of dealing with death. I sort through memory lane, trying to pick up the pieces that have been left behind for so long. It bothers me that Marc and I were close a few years back in year 9 and 10 yet we grew apart just like that.
I remember we first met at the Canterbury ice-skating rink, which was the "in" thing to do as the teenage groupies that we were. I remember him as a comical critic. I remember the way he bunched his eyebrows as he commented on some other guy being a home wrecker. I laughed at his scrutiny of the most tiny details, the way he could describe why he disliked a person with such lengthy precision.
Looking back, I don't talk or know any of the people I took those sticker photos with anymore. Except Peggy, but that too is becoming scarce.
Back in the days
I remember the late night conference calls up until 6AM we had as 14 year olds rebelling against parental phone curfews. He had a great sense of humour and his sarcasm cracked me up. He (along with Kit hehe) made my heart skip that night when we played the game of choosing who we would go out with amongst the conference call if we had no other choice.
We were good friends but I started to "see" cracks in his character through rumours spread by my love obsession at the time. And that is something I regret as I look back. I remember him as a guy who treasured his friendships, someone who was honest and loads of fun to be around.
I guess the distance between us grew too big, time rolled over too many layers so now I can only remember Marc through my memories.
The last time I saw him was last year at Randwick and I remember commenting on his funky red spikes. But we just exchanged feigned hugs and went on our separate ways.
Kit asked me how I felt when I heard. I said that I just feel regret. Regret that he had to die so young, at 21, about to graduate from uni. I remember Kit telling me how much he was loving his Arts degree, how he was learning Chinese. It does disturb me that he was one of us, he was one of us living people. Yet now he's on the other side, and that makes me feel like there's a gaping hole where he should be, on this earth. Even if his presence I don't notice as much because we've grown apart, I still feel that gaping hole where he should be with his life.
Marc Yong, rest in peace,
16/09/84 - 17/11/05.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home