Can You Hear Me, Brother?

I was going through my phonebook last night, tidying it up, deleting contacts I didn't think I needed anymore.

It was towards the end when I came to your name.

It's only been a month since you left all of us. I remember clearly where I was when I received the news. I was stunned. I didn't want to believe.

"Are you fucking sure? This is not something to be kidding about.."

"Yeah man.. Sorry.."

Fuck.

I just saw you over the summer, when I went back to school, visiting band practice. I was driving across the scout den when I saw you. It was a welcome sight; the last time I saw you was in Form 5. It had been 3 years. Too long.

You looked good. You were still fucking strong, bro..

We talked, exchanged phone numbers, and promised to meet up for supper and drinks.

I remember school with you like it was yesterday.

I remember begging you constantly for your motorbike so I could skip school. You rarely relented, but on the days you did, I'd always be late returning it. You'd always just smile and say the same thing.

"Lemma.. I wanna go home liao-lah! Why you so fucking late?"

I remember sitting at the very back of the class with you. Talking cock, you with your scouting, me with my band.

The ubiquitous scout log book on your desk.

I remember June of 2000, when we desperately needed a few more members to qualify for contention in the National Championships in KL.

You were one of the first Jin Khuan and I approached. I remember you agreed almost instantly, not even stopping to ask any questions. Not caring how many hours you were expected to practice, to burn under the sun. And that you did. That we all had to do.

For the next 2 months, you, together with Alvin, Mou Yen & Yih Chaur became honorary band members. As gruelling as it was, you never complained. You stayed in ranks. You sweated with us. You were one of us. And for that we were grateful.

I remember you staying late in the band room, even after practice ended, chilling with Jin Khuan, Eugene and I, helping us clean up and lock up.

You were so committed to our goal, even more so than most of the young ones. I remember you coming in early every morning, sitting in the corner with Jin Khuan, asking him to teach you how to play the euphonium. You struggling with buzzing correctly, hitting the right notes. We didn't ask any of you invites to learn to play the instrument that you were assigned. You were just expected to march in ranks and pretend to play. But still, you learnt to play. And play you certainly did.

By competition time, you could play half of everything we were supposed to.

Did I ever thank you? If I did, I'm sure it was never nearly enough.

I remember staying up late, chilling in the hotel room in KL. Grand Central, Jalan Raja Laut. Good times.

I remember sneaking out for supper in Jalan Chow Kit. Remember we were almost caught by the pak guard?

You left us too quickly. We didn't even meet up once, last summer. My fault. For that I'll always be sorry. Forgive me?

If there's anything at all after this life, I hope you've found the best of it. I hope you're happy and safe where you are.

I hope you can hear me. I hope you're looking down. Look after me from above?

Maybe we'll meet one day. I'll be ready with drinks. We'll make it a night to remember.

You're loved, and never forgotten. Thanks for your friendship.

Rest peacefully.

You're still in my phonebook, brother.

Comments disabled.

This entry was posted by tsh, on Friday, April 15, 2005. You can bitch back.