Many many years ago, I knew I wasn't one of those boyish faced, dimpled smiled and puppie eyed kids.
It hurt a lot when I knew I wasn't gonna be swamped by the girls, nor envied by the guys. I felt I never had talents, skills, nor anything unique. I felt so abnormal being me, much like a tree in the middle of nowhere, practically out of touch from the real world and how it functioned.
All in the past tense, yes. I was, and never will be. That was how awful it felt.
Being asian has all the wins and woes. Success was in itself a failure to attain just the reward and not the big prize. I went with the flow, and the flow swept me further and further away. I began to lose myself.
So academic excellence was a goal. Afterall, what's there to look forward to? Nobody gives me a second look, and my words were dull. Chatting with me was a chore, and going out together was obligatory in its entirety.
Then came a time when conflict of religion got to me. I was asianly asian, but I studied in a westernly religious school. It was a daily struggle to be in a place I couldn't believe in, simply cos it ain't what I believed in. So I had to choose. I dropped academic achievements in exchange for self-expression in technical art. It didn't work out at the end of all the semesters cos I lost myself within.
It was like walking in a place you're exploring for something else in another place.
I reached out for help that never came. Fact is, as a teen, a cry for help usually ends with an act of rebellion or self-pity. i went there. And never looked back. It felt great to wallow cos any little excitement became big. It became very big. So I walked further and harder to see where it might end.
Joining the corps wasn't such a bad idea then. I earned a rank and had free food, clothes, and lodging. I hardly saw my folks and felt good away from all that nagging. Yes, it felt nauseating buried in discipline and regiment, but I could earn control.
Down from Eagle Hill one night, we made camp and got ready for a moment's rest. Yes, it was a story I've repeated many times, but I just have to write it again.
The boys got as comfortable as possible in the freezing cold and I finally made my way back to the Tent. Eric was the next in line for a promotion within the Quatermasters, and we got along pretty well cos we were in camp twice as often as the rest.
He brought me coffee. It was the last mug from the stock he delivered from Base. And he gave it to me. I was really touched. He never really made many friends within the Unit, and I certainly wasn't a big brother to him. I was just a friend who never kept asking him for stuff like the rest. They would see him, and somehow, just ask for something. I needed really few things, there was nothing much I need at all then, except company.
We spoke a little. Small talk, nothing much. Then he started to pack with his boys. I think I did say good night or something, for I never felt the guilt.
I remember skipping the rest of the supper and the night with the rest and just jumped into my hammock. I was tired, but just barely insomniac. Couldn't quite remember for how long, but I fell asleep and was rudely awoken by my superior.
Those with ranks assembled at the main Tent for an emergency meeting that night. I remembered dense clouds hung low, and the chill was biting. My eyes were really blurred with my contacts on, and the mist didn't help.
The big man finally appeared after all of us got there and waited close to 15 minutes. Ain't that always the case? And he broke the news.
Eric's truck crashed into a house. The driver escaped unhurt, but ran to avoid the cell. One of Eric's boys suffered minor head injuries, but Eric himself was pronounced brain dead a couple of hours after the accident.
My unit mech guys saw the truck. The news was devastating, much like the truck.
This, for your info, is for real.
We had to move on while they sent his body back home. My colleagues back here walked him for his last journey. I could not. And I lived with that regret for a long time.
I never saw his urn, and I never paid my last respects.
When I returned home, I was feeling really heavy on the inside. It took me 2 days to muster enough courage to walk up to his superior, to apologise - I had promised to look after Eric on this trip as it was his first overseas assignment as well as a confirmation for his promotion. I had failed.
I remember the old man looking at me with swollen eyes. He held my shoulder and squeezed it hard, and told me firmly that it wasn't my fault and that I should let go.
Would you?
Could you?
Had I?
Will I?
My whole perspective of life changed afterwards. It was no longer about being here and now. It became going there and then. Time runs out as soon as you begin to start treasuring it. It felt horrible.
Many years after, I had a dream about Eric. Maybe I made it up in my mind, and maybe I didn't. He smiled.
Yes, the state says he died an honorable death, the guys praised his courage and grace, the boys saluted his care and contributions.
I?
Thank him for being a friend. :wink:
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