It was just a normal chair, with plasticky and rubbery strips of red, blue and white. But yet, this chair was what represented of my last memories of my grandfather. There can never be a feeling of expectancy towards death and when that happens, a feeling of surrealism simply overwhelms. The mind and the heart struggles to accept the truth but yet...

I was awoken from my sleep a few days ago, just when I was in my bed after two consecutive night shifts. My mum was shaking me awake informing me of the awful truth. In a daze, I got off my bed whilst the truth sank in. Apparently my mother had just calling me but I was in too deep a sleep to hear the rings of the phone. Smses by her and my cousin did not get through as my handphone was on silent mode. By the time she got home, my grandfather had already departed by about 3 hours. Death, ever so mysterious, seems to impart upon the 'victim' a sense of prophetic power. My grandfather 'knew' his impending death and informed everyone in the house that he would depart by 4pm that day. He even asked my uncle to take down all the new year decorations. Of course, everyone thought he was mad and my grandmother just asked him to stop spouting nonsense. My grandfather proceeded to shower and cleaned himself more thoroughly than usual. Thereafter he went off to sit in his usual chair by the door, waiting for lunch. My grandmother went off to get his bowl of porridge for him and when she returned, he had already departed.

I never felt so much regrets over a person's death before. Not of my grandmother, not of my uncles whatsoever. It stemmed from the fact that I didn't perform my duty of fillial piety well enough before his demise. The very last time I saw him, it was the first day of Chinese New Year. I was greeted with the image of him in his usual chair by the door at the very moment when I stepped into the house. He was skinny yet did not look unhealthy. But I still felt a tinge of sadness at seeing his state. I felt regretful that I did not spent more time at their home, partly because I came late, partly because I had to go to work. It was only about an hour before I had to leave. Why didn't I choose to take the first day off instead of the second day? I had the freedom to choose and yet I picked the second day because of certain reasons. More than a week ago, he felt breathless and my grandmother sent him to hospital. He was given a clean bill of health but my grandmother insisted on him staying there for a few days. I wanted to go visit him but my grandmother asked that we do not go, because there was a mad man who kept stripping, sleeping opposite him. In part, I was lazy as well. I felt bad though at images of his skinny self and told my mother that I wanted to buy tonics for him. My mother suggested bird's nest and asked my grandfather if he wanted that. My grandfather was good, honest and had a hard life, working up to 3 years to his death in a temple. In part because his children were not well off. Now that I've started working and could contribute some money to them, he didn't live long for me to do my part. He told my mother that he wanted it, but I kept procrastinating buying it. I really hate myself. A few days later he was gone. My grandmother told my mum that he had mentioned it to her. It must have meant alot to him but yet I was so unfillial. I really felt in the pits when I saw this lone bottle of bird's nest on the altar, being offered to him. What's the point? I only did my part when he finally passed away. I never felt so mean in my life and nothing I do can ever change this fact. I only hope that now that he has gone, he will find peace in wherever he is now. Leading a comfortable life and being with his loved ones. I also hope that my grandmother will take it easy. Sometimes, seeing the reactions of the people around you is perhaps worse that the sadness you feel at the person's death. i have never seen my grandmother scream and cry in my life. And yet everyday, she broke down at least once. It really hurts.

People might say, at least you saw him 2 weeks before his death, and he won't blame you for anything. But trust me, nothing would ever make me feel good about his death. At least if I had treated him better, visiting him more often, and being more fillial, at least I won't feel so bad about his death. I just wished his death hasn't been so sudden, and for once, that I did not procrastinate. I just hope that he's leading a good life up there now.

The chair was disposed off soon after his death. Chinese customs dictates that belongings of the dead be disposed. As I helped to bring down what's left of his dismantled bed frame, his pillows and blankets, I couldn't help but stare at his chair, lying in a heap at the void deck. Somehow, it felt lonesome and unwanted. But yet for a period in his life, it was his favourite place to spend his time at.....