And to Him we return.

Yesterday after the completion of my History paper, I checked the messages on my mobile phone and one of them managed to struck a chord within me. Through Fefe, I found out that the elder brother of one of my close friends in Primary school had just passed away the night before due to cancer.

I may not know him personally, but I recall the times when I smiled at him when we passed by each other at his home, or the times when the girl friends and I would totally have a crush on him. He’s not much older then myself, and I felt that it’s too soon for someone to die at such a young age.

And last week, one of my cousin’s cousin too passed away due to a motorcycle accident. With a freshly acquired license in hand and a pillion behind him, he sped down the highway in the early morning dews, but somehow, lost his balance during a turn, crashing the bike into the railings. The pillion fell on a bush and only broke a leg, but unfortunately for him, he fell head first on the tarmac, his neck snapping instantly.

I hate it when it seems that death comes knocking in groups; it’s like once you manage to shake off the feeling, someone you know keels and you get sad all over again. It’s hard to pinpoint the emotions, but it’s just that the prospect of someone dying, either a person I know personally or not, is just too overwhelming.

To me, knowing that someone has passed away, ceaselessly reminds me of my own mortality. We tend to make plans that last ten, twenty years down the road, but how do we know that there might not even be a tomorrow? How do we know, that we have all the time to achieve the things we want to achieve? To ask for forgiveness from whom we have committed errs to?

Pardon me for this melancholic entry, ey? It’s just that it’s 6 in the morning, the household is quiet and I have been doing some reflections of my own. (And as usual, became emotional somewhere along the way.)

On another note, Granddad will be undergoing his operation this coming Monday and I really, from the bottom of my heart, hope he pulls through. During the course of the Kenduri last night, I found out that it was not only his heart that has been deteriorating in condition, but other parts of him too were similarly affected.

The operation he has to undergo is seemingly an easy one, but due to the fact that my Granddad already has a 90% blockage in his heart, the risks of death would be 50 - 50; a pretty high number in medicinal standards, I think.

For Grandma, for my dad, for my aunts and uncles, for my cousins and for myself, I really pray that the procedure will be successful. He is the only Granddad I’ve ever had, and a bloody good one at that. I don’t think I can fathom what I’d feel once it’s his turn to return to The One, what more the grievance that Grandma or his own children would feel.

Therefore after all that has been poured out, I hope you’d leave this site with a prayer. A prayer for those who have crossed over, and a prayer for my Granddad’s successful operation procedure. It would very much be appreciated, thank you.