I usually don’t have much trouble communicating my thoughts and feelings via words, but allow me to admit something today: this particular piece has been one of the toughest articles that I’ve ever needed to write.
I usually don’t cry when I write, but this piece was the first time I’ve sobbed through from start to finish. As difficult as it was, I knew that it was something that I had to do.
A few days ago, I was packing my things at the office as we were preparing to move to a new staff room two floors above. It was then that I heard my phone beep and I opened the messages inbox to shocking news: a good friend from university had passed away suddenly.
I felt the air around me being sucked away and my mind went blank.
I found out that Lim Boon Seng had passed away due to a severe lung infection.
To date, I still refuse to believe it. It just doesn’t seem to make any sense to me.
I remember many things about him so clearly, despite not seeing him for about eight years.
We were in the choir team of University Malaya’s 9th Residential College. We spent hours and days practising for competitions and performances. We attended camps and travelled to places in the name of singing — something we both, as with our team, were passionate about.
I remember the brief outings, the group dinner sessions, the long hours in the choir room. The laughter, the tears. The fights, the hugs. We were all more like a family than anything else. The memories seem like they were from only yesterday.
Boon Seng was a tenor, and he loved what he was doing. He was a positive soul who was hardly in a bad mood. Always smiling, he spread happiness and joy with his cheerful outlook on life. Perhaps, it was because he knew he was doing something he loved with the people he loved, he couldn’t help but be optimistic most of the time.
He loved the camera and was always making funny faces whenever someone’s camera was rolling.
He couldn’t bear to see anyone upset, and would sit next to him and talk, and wouldn’t leave until the personsmiled again.
After we graduated, we kept in touch only via social media. We never made time to meet and catch up over coffee, despite making numerous plans.
There was always someone who was either busy or travelling somewhere far. It was always a case of “maybe next time”.
I wish I knew back then that it would never come to be. Perhaps then we would’ve made a better effort to spend more quality time together.
How is it possible that someone so young and has so much to live for can have his life snatched away in such a cruel manner?
How is it possible that so many heartless, evil monsters are roaming around happily but someone as pure-hearted and kind as Boon Seng be allowed such a short time here on Earth?
My friend’s sudden passing has taught me a very painful, important lesson.
It taught me that life should never be taken for granted.
It taught me that one should always prioritise people who matter.
It taught me that “next time” might never happen.
Most importantly, it taught me that sometimes tomorrow never comes.
That being said, I hope this can serve as a lesson to the rest of us.
Life should always be lived to its fullest. Stop overworking yourself, because your life is not just about making payments to the bank. Take care of your wellbeing, because real life doesn’t have a reset button. Learn to make time for your loved ones, because you never know when they would be taken away from you. Say “I love you” to the people who matter to you, because one day, they won’t be around to reply you.
Boon Seng, this is dedicated in your memory.
Rest in peace, dearest friend.
Ashley Greig, a lecturer at Sunway College, is a Malaysian-born Eurasian with Scottish/Japanese/Indian lineage. She believes in a tomorrow where there is no racism and hatred