A christmas story part 3

And he began his story.

For over two hours I was rooted to the spot, spellbound by his life story. Leaving behind, all he had, for love? Stable-looking, solidly built Uncle Frank was so adventourous, so...spirited? It seemed unbelieveable. Would I have the courage to do that...I mused to myself. Then again, being here in oh-so-safe Singapore, I don't think I'd ever have the chance. Some political journalist once said that he was amazed that the streets of Singapore were so safe, yet there wasn't a single policeman in sight to be seen. He wrote, albeit sardonically, that we Singaporeans have the policemen, in our hearts. All of us are, 'internally policed'. And I guess that was true for me as well. Oh, the days of my youth. I cringe now to think at my thoughts 3 years ago, though it ain't exactly THAT long ago.

Who knew, that after Uncle Frank's story, I would take the leap of faith to find, and to write the chapters of my own love story.

Who knew, that in 2009, I would marry Natalia, a lady who had so much love for others, yet only knowing her father's love for most of her life. That Christmas day, three years ago, I finally knew why Mom and Dad always looked at Uncle Frank with sentimental glances when he mentioned his wife. And why he never married anyone else again. I never knew that Mom had lost a sister when Uncle Frank lost his wife. And the pain that they all felt, bonded them together in a strange family unit. It was Dad who rescued Uncle Frank from an almost-suicidal state after losing his wife. Mom never mentioned her name. I found out that her sister, Uncle Frank's wife, was called Catherine. She did not die after Natalia's birth as I had previously thought, but almost one year later, the christmas after. It was auto-immune thyroiditis which became full-blown Graves' disease which developed due to a complication post-partum. Uncle Frank wondered at her rapid weight loss shortly after Natalia was born, then, as she started to lose more, he because worried. This disease is still prevalent now, though with the advances made in medical science with Interferon, it is wholly treatable. Then, though, there was imminent death for the sufferers of the full-blown disease. She survived till Christmas, to see the first snowfall, then... it was too cold. Just too cold.

Uncle Frank's story changed my life the way other people are changed by people. You could say I was changed by love, an enduring love, a love that dared to break the boundaries across nations, a love that has the courage to remain strong, for his only child.

Natalia inherited her Dad's talents of reading and writing, and that three years ago, Uncle Frank brought with him a christmas card she made, and what she wrote to me piqued my curiosity for her type of vocation. One year later, I packed my bags and used my medic expertise to the fullest, helping to rebuild the tsunami-devastated villages in Banda Aceh, where one quarter of the whole population died. We spent one month there, one month of hardship though it was the sweetest month I've ever experienced, being in her tantalising presence each day. I could not leave her side after that. And now? Well, you see...

Although her cooking is not as good as her words, I still eat the burnt brownies, and the overtly solid turkey this year. I smiled at Uncle Frank, seated opposite me. Marriage was on the cards and we plan for a spring wedding, next year.

I forgot, to mention, this tradition that we had every year for years since Uncle Frank came to visit. There was always an empty chair next to Uncle Frank, which we took as a time-honored tradition. Now I knew the meaning of the empty chair. The chair stood for the comfort of the presence God brought to Uncle Frank's life, when Catherine was gone. The chair stood for the hope that each Christmas brings, that we can still find something to be thankful for, despite the pain, despite the ache in the heart and the almost unendureable depression it comes with. The chair represented that somehow, faith means, that God was with you, He still is.

And me? I'm going to love her, forever. 'Love me or die!' I shouted aloud to Natalia as she brought out a yet another tray of brownies that smelt too smoky to be eaten...

(the end!)

This story is dedicated to Chester, an old friend who introduced me to the world of Classics, starting with Wuthering Heights.