That Fateful Day.

I wasn't sure how I would feel today.





This is the first time I will recount in detail what happened a year ago.
(Reader discretion is advised...)


It was a Friday evening when I received the phone call that has since split my life into two.
A life with a younger brother named Reuben,
and a life as an only child.

I remember being in shock when I first heard my parents' voices cracking over the phone, telling me that Reuben had gone missing in Cambodia.
I didn't understand what they were saying.
If it weren't for the Lord's providence of the love and care of friends, I don't know how I would have gotten past that night.
Or the next morning - when I hastily bought a one-way ticket to Cambodia to meet my parents and auntie there... all the while praying that Reu would turn up alive and well as soon as possible.

That Saturday was spent in a daze.
The 5 dragon-boaters had gone missing since late Friday afternoon.
Where could they be?
What could have happened to them?

We all felt thoroughly helpless.
We couldn't help the search in any practical way, but neither could we just sit there and wait for news.... which is somehow what we were supposed to do!
By late Saturday night, my heart began to numb in fright at the inevitable.
Yet I prayed for a miracle.
I've never prayed so hard in my life.


I awakened on Sunday morning to the news that 2 bodies had been found.
Someone had to go identify the bodies.
So, unwilling to traumatize my parents any further, my aunt and I decided that we would be the ones to see the bodies.

The stench of death was strong.
I'd never smelt anything like it.
I initially could not bring myself to really look at the dark, swollen, water-logged bodies.
So I started slowly from their feet up.
In a haze of denial, I decided that neither of the bodies were Reu's because he was much taller, and had much bigger feet.

Relief hit me like a tidal wave.

There was still hope.


We went back to our hotel rooms to wait for more news.
The general feel, unfortunately, was that we were now waiting to find Reu's body.

I couldn't bear the thought.
Exhausted, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

I dreamed he sat next to me.
He'd climbed out of the river, soaking wet... but he was alright.

Confused, I awoke and was told that we had news.
We rushed to the meeting area, and were told that the other 3 bodies had been found.

Time seemed to stop.

How could this be?
I didn't understand it.
He was gone???

****

A second whiff of death.
I successfully identified my brother's body this time.
They had covered the heads.... so disfigured and bloated were they...
But as the distraught families left the container where the 5 bodies lay, I stopped and looked again - I still couldn't understand how this body could be my beautiful brother.

And I saw it - blood running down his neck towards his right shoulder.
What did it mean?

****

That week was a long and tedious one.
Funeral preparations and "looking after" Reu's body (which had eventually been flown back to Singapore) at the wake in the void deck next to our own - a void deck Reu and I as children had run around and played at.

Mummy was inconsolable.
Daddy was strong but also distraught.
I was mostly confused, tense, and heartbroken.
It was unimaginable - life without Reuben.

****

So many people turned up to pay their last respects to Reu.
So many people loved him.
So many people admired him.

****

When they burned his body, I felt a moment of intense grief as I said goodbye to the brother I knew. And then he was gone.

The few times I managed to go to the columbarium where his ashes are now kept, I felt only faint sadness. Admittedly, somehow, I feel guilty that I am perhaps not as affected by his resting place as other people... but I can't explain it - somehow when I saw the empty shell that was my brother's body lying in that container in Cambodia, all I could think of was that it was my brother's body, but it was not my brother.

****

So a year has passed since he has left us.
Reuben has left a distinct hole in many hearts.
I miss him dearly, but I do not cry very much.

Maybe it is the promise that God has given to us... to me - that those who love Him will be reunited one day.
It keeps me looking forward.

There'll be no goodbyes.
And when we part,
we'll hold each others' hearts,
and perhaps someday we'll meet again some way,
And we will always be together.