Till we meet again, do keep my number...

“From Mike-My beloved dad just passed away peacefully at home in PJ”

The message came as a shock to me. 

Has it been that long since I caught up with Mike?

We were dabbling in the hawker food business more than ten years ago, during my unemployed scene a few months after graduation. And five years ago I attended his wedding before he continued his four years study in Melbourne.  I haven’t got in touch with him ever since. 

Mike and I were room mates during my university years in USM engineering campus (Tronoh, Perak) back then. He witnessed and assisted me in a bloody mysterious incident (click to read more) at one point during those years.

After graduation we tried to set up a stall selling Pizza, Spaghetti and Sandwiches at a coffee shop in Damansara Utama, which ironically is where my office is located now, just a few blocks away. We just managed to survive 3 months without any sign of profit. Mike had a day job and I was operating the stall at minimum wage from him and a partnering friend, also with a day job. Both of them, Mike and Chun Hoe, would manage the materials and logistics part in the background and I would run the show.  They would sometimes drop by and help out in the evening after work.  I guess we failed. But we learned a lot.

Then five years ago I attended his wedding and we managed to do a little catching up before he went off to further his studies in Melbourne. 

When I changed my phone, I did not transfer his number because I assumed he would have ceased to use the number since he’s away for a long time.

Then the sad news came on Sunday.  The wake was scheduled on Monday night but I already had a dinner appointment so I decided to go for the Funeral Service followed by the cremation this morning.  The ash will be put to rest in his mother’s grave.  There was no more space at the same graveyard so the other option was a cremation, which gives one absolution; his parents are together again.

As I entered Room 6 at the memorial parlor, the priest was addressing the grieving family members and friends. Mike turned around and saw me sitting at the last row of seats. He gave me an appreciative smile and I sincerely returned a consoling one.

“As we grieve his passing, let us all remember that this is not the final goodbye.  This is just a beginning. We will all meet again…”

“He is not one to openly express his love for his family but I know he loves his two sons just as much.  He is mighty proud of them and he shows his love in his own ways…” The priest continued.

Those words sent waves of sadness onto me and tears started rolling along my eyelids.

“Before we proceed with our final respect, let us all bow down and take a brief moment to remember him…”

As I bow down, brief memories of visiting Mike at his home with his father at home came back to me.  I also remember the time when we got a catering job for a simple wedding ceremony at the church and we were scrambling to cook pizza and spaghetti at his house.  The oven and cooking stove were fired up all day long and his dad would occasionally be the food tester.  He even joked that he’s going to charge for the electricity and cooking gas.

Though brief, the memories of him got to me and I found myself burying my face with my palms, sobbing uncontrollably.

The fact that I was not with a handkerchief, a napkin or any form of fabric forced me to control my emotions and put an early stop to the crying. “I’d get my shirt wet if I go on like this…”

So I was calm again after 2 minutes.

When the service ended, the casket was ushered to the furnace just behind the room door.  As it was pushed in, sadness rained down on me yet again the floodgates were forced open.  

With foggy eyes I saw the caretakers show the initial burning process and waited for a nod from mike and his elder brother to shut the furnace doors. A short prayer was said soon after and everyone walked back into the room.

As I gave Mike a hug, he let out a soft and staggered ‘Thanks for coming’ appreciation.

I also felt a finger poke at my waist. It was Chun Hoe.

“I hardly recognize you!” He said, cheering up the scene.

“Haha… you’ve never seen the fit version of him since 10 years ago” Mike told Chun Hoe.

“Yes he has. I was at your wedding remember!” I reminded Mike.

“I had already lost weight back then” I continued.

At Mike's wedding (Center)

We had our brief catch up as we lingered outside the parlor.

“Thanks for coming man. I wasn’t sure if you’re still using the number so I put my name with the message” Mike told me.

“Were you using the same number since we last met? I didn’t keep your number because I thought you’d be using a new one once you come back” I told Mike.

“Yeah, the same.”

“But how?” I asked.

“I kept reloading after every 90 days the credit expires.  Once a year I’d come home for the holidays and use up the accumulated credit”

“And you did that for four years… Wow.” I exclaimed

“It didn’t accumulate that much anyway, since I only did minimum reloads online every three months.” Mike explained.

It pays to keep old numbers sometimes.  Come to think of it, I’ve been using my number for more than ten years now.

Mike beside his father. His elder brother behind him, always.