To Lily With Fond Memories

After a preliminary check up by the nurse, I gathered my handbag and the neatly wrapped Christmas present for my friend, Lily. Outside, the snow, which always reminds me of cake icing, was coming down steadily, as if in anticipation of Christmas Day. The Royal Alexandra Hospital was beautifully decorated with trees and cards, and the air permeated with Christmas carols. There is something so pure and magical about a white Christmas. The fact that I was going to have ear surgery on the following day did not dampen my spirit. I was rather excited, because I was going to see Lily who was also hospitalised in the same building. After bidding the nurses goodbye and promising that I would be back in a short time, I made my way to the reception desk on the main floor.

"The lady in question is not here", said the receptionist.

"Yes, she is. Can you please check again?" I persisted.

"No, not here. Sorry. You'd better check at the nursing home."

I left with disappointment and a sense of impending trouble. I had been so sure that Lily was at the hospital. I headed for the public phone and nervously dialled Lily's number.

A voice answered. "..... Nursing Home."

"Hello! Can speak to Mrs. Lily Smith?"

"I'm afraid she passed away last night."

I was stupefied. Tears rolled down my cheeks. " Why last night? " Childishly I asked,
"Why not tomorrow?" Then I could have seen Lily for the last time today. As I made my way back to the ward, crying unabashedly, some people stopped to ask, "Are you alright?" I could not answer. The fact that I would not be able to see Lily again was all that mattered to me.

The nurses tried to comfort me. "Your friend had suffered a lot. It's probably better that she's now resting in peace." Back at the hospital bed, I could not help thinking and recalling the past.

I first met Lily two summers ago when I volunteered to look after her twice a week during the later part of the day. She was a petite, Scottish widow of seventy years. She had suffered from arthritis for thirty years, and was constantly in pain. However, she was very cheerful and courageous. Despite the great difference in age and temperament, we were in tune with each other, like the harmonious chords of a guitar. She was the grandmother I never had. I cannot help wishing that I were the eldest in the family, so tht I could have had a chance to see all my grandparents. I was a tomboy, but with Lily, I learned to be gentle, as when I helped her to do her hair or massage her frail shoulders. Under Lily's patient instructions, I baked her birthday cake. It was the first birthday cake I had ever baked in my life, but Lily encouraged me. With Lily I was able to do all the little things that I had never done before. I enjoyed pushing her around in her wheel chair. Often I would push her to the lounge where I would entertain her and some of the other elderly people with piano playing. Some of them would sing hymns, old hits and folk songs. The more energetic ones would waltz along with the music. Their joy and humour were infectious.

At times we would chat and have coffee together, and Lily would tell me stories of the Canadian pioneer days. In return, I would share with her my experiences in Malaysia and all those countries that I had visited.

We were always looking forward to meeting each other. I realised how lonely these elderly people could be, and was glad to do a little to cheer them up. Although I had been to Canada for two and a half years, I was still not accustomed to the idea of nursing homes, because in Malaysia, most people looked after their own parents. My older siblings were all living in different countries, leaving me to look after my parents. It was only after they passed away, that I decided to pursue my tertiary education in Canada.

For the past year, I had been able to take some time off occasionally to visit Lily and her friends. We always had our little musical session. Music is an international language that everyone unerstands. Being with these lovely people had taught me to value time and to revel in youth. How often I had heard them say, "If I had the strength again, I would do this and that." Lily wished she had learned to play the piano or violin before arthritis struck her. Lily liked writing, and I can still remember the huge amount of correspondence that she handled. Despite her partially twisted hands which shook most of the time, she still wrote her personal letters whenever she could. It is for this reason that I especially treasure the birthday, Christmas and thank you cards tha Lily sent me. Only when her hands were very weak and stiff would she ask me to help her with writing. I will always remember Lily's advice to me, "When you are young, try to live life to its fullest and accomplish as much as you can because this is when you have the most energy, mobility and spirit."

My last visit to Lily's nursing home had been a week before I received a call from her niece, informing me that Lily was in the hospital. At that time I was recuperating from a severe bout of flu. I requested the niece to tell Lily that I would visit her in about five days' time. I had hoped that I would recover by then. Alas! I was a day too late!

Despite having suffered three bereavements, I found Lily's sudden death a hard blow to take. I wish I could be like the nurses who viewed death and suffering in a more detached and somewhat philosophical manner. Probably their daily contact with sickness and death had enabled them to become less vulnerable .

I thought of Lily lying in the mortuary, cold and oblivious to any further arthritic pain. Her two sons still did not know of her death as they lived a thousand miles away from Edmonton. For some reason, Lily had not filled in her children's address and phone number on the form, so it would take the hospital some time to get in touch with them. Even Lily's niece who phoned me five days ago had not yet learned of her aunt's death. My only consolation was that Lily was a Christian and therefore had hopes of salvation. Now I dare not go back to the nursing home to play the piano, because I could not bear to see the empty chair which was once occupied by Lily. The memory would be too painful. But then.... life must go on. It is better to give our best to people while they are still living, than to lament when they have passed away. The very uncertainty of life enhnces its value, because we never know when we will be called to rest. I recalled Lily's advice again and suddenly asked myself what accomplisments I had achieved so far. I recalled the promise that I had made to my beloved father that I would work diligently and learn whateverI could. Dad had always cautioned, "There is only so much that you can learn from books The rest comes from your personal participation and experiences. Learn from your mistakes and strive to enrich your life spiritually, socially and intellectually."

Like every other student who is working for his university degree, I am often faced with the same challenge of finding enough time to accomplish everything that I would like. Through influence from dad and Lily, I cannot be content just to graduate with a degree. I want to learn from a wealth of personal experiences so as to increase my social awareness and understanding. For us foreign students in Canada, time is even more precious, since we have a targeted time to complete our studies. We want to acquire as much knowledge as we possibly can so tht we could share with our people back home. Alberta, being a melting pot, gives us immense opportunities to meet people of diverse races. Having had many opportunities for travelling and interaction, I have learned a great deal from people who come from all over the world. How wise of Emerson to say, "Every man I meet is my superior in some way. In that I learn of him." Life's journey is often a rough terrain, but the rewards are sweet and tremendous.

Gan Chau

P.S. To Lily with Fond Memories was published in the True Life Story section of New Thrill,
Sarawak's Tabloid on 11th August, 1982.