My father lost his best friend last week.
Mr. Arsenio Tan, my father's best friend of almost twenty years died last December 21, 2007 in Guangzhou, China. Arsenio, who saw my father through almost every stage of his life within a couple of years after my mother left was a good man. A good man who did well for himself, but did not let money measure men, much less his friends.
After all that time, I managed to build a rather loose, but comfortable friendship with said best friend's son. Hung out with him for a few minutes at the one-night-only wake with his father's ashes, which were brought back from his failed operation in China.
It's interesting how one surveys a funeral crowd and finds the air drowning in murmured chatters. All of which are underlined with a silent emptiness that echoes not in the ears, but in the eyes of those who reluctantly smile with a sympathetic pat on the arm.
And the murmurs go on with the same questions and the same old lines over and over again...
Mr. Arsenio Tan, my father's best friend of almost twenty years died last December 21, 2007 in Guangzhou, China. Arsenio, who saw my father through almost every stage of his life within a couple of years after my mother left was a good man. A good man who did well for himself, but did not let money measure men, much less his friends.
After all that time, I managed to build a rather loose, but comfortable friendship with said best friend's son. Hung out with him for a few minutes at the one-night-only wake with his father's ashes, which were brought back from his failed operation in China.
It's interesting how one surveys a funeral crowd and finds the air drowning in murmured chatters. All of which are underlined with a silent emptiness that echoes not in the ears, but in the eyes of those who reluctantly smile with a sympathetic pat on the arm.
And the murmurs go on with the same questions and the same old lines over and over again...
"How did he die?"
"I just saw him..."
"How old was he?"
"He's so young..."
"How's the family?"
"How did he die?"
"I just saw him..."
"How old was he?"
"He's so young..."
"How's the family?"
"How did he die?"
"I just saw him..."
"How old was he?"
"He's so young..."
"How's the family?"
"I just saw him..."
"How old was he?"
"He's so young..."
"How's the family?"
and it goes on and on and on and on...
and then people lower their heads and trickle out of the chapel until one looks up again and finds only the family remaining. Tired of smiling and repeating the stories over and over and over again...
The wake will be over soon enough, and the things that families never want to talk about are finally discussed on that fateful family dinner, and then the family finally moves on.
Like we all will.
MR. ARSENIO TAN (R.I.P. December 21, 2007)
Photo by Dani Simmonds, SXC
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