I received a call from ubur ubur. He wasn't a bearer of good news.

A friend I've known since Form 2 passed away. He had been sick for quite some time. I always thought he had the cancer under control, and that he was fighting - and winning.

Death is depressing, but more unsettling is the demise of a person who is supposed to be at his prime. It demonstrates how being 21 does not necessarily mean that one is bequeathed the armor of invincibility. Life is fragile.

I felt quite remorseful for not visiting him while he was around. A few of us did discuss about going together as a group, but somehow the plans remained just that. I even had doubts about attending his wake, mostly because I dreaded the uneasiness at such a somber function, and I didn't want to go alone. But ubur ubur encouraged me, and told me to go on his behalf.

So after dinner I took time to prepare myself and walked to his house. My trepidation was unfounded as the crowd was huge, and to a certain extent not too mournful (the professional mourners in "There's a Death in the House Opposite" come to mind). I was soon inconspicuous.

The Christian service began at about 8 30 pm with hymns and prayers. I stood with a few schoolmates at the side of house, so still we were the perfect feeding ground for mosquitoes. As the service droned on, my mind wandered, taking in occasional terms like "living hope" and "living stone". I must confess I do not identify with these conceptual ideas (yet), but I concluded that funerals generally serve two functions: to celebrate and commemorate the life of the deceased, and to help the deceased's family and relatives deal with their loss.

It first occurred to me, that in the face of death, everything that one has aspired and striven for is meaningless. Are the SPM and SAM qualifications not mere pieces of decorated paper for him? I lambaste myself for such selfish, shallow thinking, and for taking things at surface value. Because thankfully, the complexity of human relationships allow one's ambitions and passion to benefit more than the individual, just like how he, in his personal way, contributed his talent and energy towards the well-being of others.

Ending the service was the march past his open coffin. I thought he looked very different and unrecognizable. At this stage, though, all that matters is the privilege I had in befriending him. He was a good person.