We will regret the things we neglected to give, not get.
Or, as was aptly on a bookmark I bought for charity today,
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
My uncle-who-is-the-same-age, Jon, passed away on Thursday evening. I was blessed enough to have encountered him- when he came to Singapore for JC, and when he visited us a few times after. Small things like bringing him to church on these visits and my parents’ friends thinking he was my boyfriend.
And what struck me in the few times I talked to him was that he was one of those rare people that make you feel hope; hope that people like him exist, someone so sweet-natured and good. Someone who exuded joy in the little things many of us take forgranted, like how appreciative he was of the food whenever my parents took him out to eat.
And blessed not just by him, but his entire family as well, who showed me much through this period. His sisters who took care of him tirelessly and being strong for their mum. Always asking about what was going on in our lives whenever we visited. His mum, who happens to be a lady who is both beautiful and extremely kind. His dad who, though one of few words, was holding up the family with such courage during this time. His girlfriend who, despite what she had been going through, still exuded such warmth.
The last time I saw him weeks ago, he was painfully thin and tired from his long flight- and still he had a big smile for all of us.
Too soon? I like to think that God has an important assignment for him, and it was absolutely critical that it had to be Jon. I saw God through your life, Jon. And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. And I thank you so much for that.
As I stood awkwardly near the end of the simple service before all off them flew home, not certain how to comfort, Jon’s mum came up to me and gave me a hug, I embarassedly thinking it should have been the other way round. In her grief, she still gave. “Love each other,” she told me. These simple words mean more now.