adieu mon ami
Joseph Duy Vu was diagnosed with kidney failure 9 years ago, and more recently I discovered that his liver was also have been damaged, though his sister, Maria, told me that livers can heal themselves, where kidneys cannot.
He was experiencing pains on Friday, but didn’t mention any thing ’til the pain persisted the next day. Dialysis did not relieve the pain and thus, he was kept in hospital for observation and testing.
On Sunday morning, around 2am, he stopped breathing, but the good doctors at Concorde Hospital revived him and moved him to the ICU. Joe’s parents were called and they spent the day by his sleeping form. The first thing he asked when he came to, in written form due to the breathing tube in place, was: “Rugby?” (The rugby finals was on that weekend, I think)
By Monday, he felt curiously free from pain, so they moved him back into a normal ward. He confided to his sister that he had been shaved. Confused, Maria asked him to explain. “You know… shaved,” he waggled his eyebrows. She burst out laughing when she realised what he had meant, he joined in even though it must have hurt to laugh with the tube in his throat. Even as sick as he was, Joe’s nature of wanting people to be happy was apparent. Always thinking of others before his own comfort.
The outlook of his health on Tuesday was better and so his family spent the night at home.
On Wednesday, October 5th, 2005 at 2am, Joe’s heart stopped and could not be revived.
All this I discovered the night I came home from the 3-week trip to Berlin. Maria called me and I picked up on the past tense she used. I closed my mind, I shut my heart.
It can’t be what I think it is…
… and then she said it: “Joseph died yesterday…”
*denialrejectiondisbeliefshock* Stupid, inane thoughts lazily swam through it all: “oh no! BM can’t return his Kenshin any more!”, “I won’t be able to get annoyed with him for calling me cute all the time.”
Maria told me that she’s been trying to contact me for the past 4 days. The past 4 days! I thought, despairingly. I could have been there for him… I wasn’t there for him! I choked back a sob and told her why she couldn’t reach me.
I was a bit of a mess that night and the next day. It was unfortunate that my friends decided to surprise me with a birthday dinner. It felt like a double-edged sword: my friend was dead and here I am celebrating the day I was born. Saturday saw me waking up feelin almost normal. I laughed merrily, I smiled, I didn’t shed any tears… and I felt so guilty for feeling like that. Is this how much he meant to me? Just a day of mourning? He would have wanted you to be happy. The thought floated by, but it felt too much like an excuse and was too convienent to ease my guilt. My thoughts were, and still are, with him. BM and I talk about him as if he’s gone to some exotic place with no communication capabilities and will be back soon – I keep expecting to see him log onto MSN.
Sunday was his wake. Never having been to a wake before, we didn’t realise that there was a program of any kind and had missed out on the speeches his friends had made. Maria asked me if I wanted to take a picture with him. Stupidly, I mumbled that I’ve never taken a picture with Joe, but have lots of photos of him (it was the other way around really), and that it’s about time I had one with him… *slaps forehead* Stupid squishies! So insensitive… you tart!! -_-#
Nevertheless, I stood up. My heart tripped several beats as I neared where he laid. I broke out into a slight cold sweat as I peered in, everything seemed to be in slow motion.
*blink blink* Joe? That’s Joe? My mind was filled once more with disbelief. That can’t possibly be Joe. It can’t be! He’s shiny! He’s never had that bad of a case of cracked lips… I think… *clickflashsnapwhirl* I looked up and saw the photographer doin his thing. Slightly unnerved by the camera, I looked back down at Joe; my denial rant continued.
Prayers were said, and the lid was placed on. No! He can’t breathe! I mentally panicked. The more logical side of me whispered, “He’s dead. He doesn’t need to breathe.” It was then that cold realisation leisurely swept through my body, numbing every emotion, though my mind still can’t seem to accept that that … body could be Joe.
Tuesday, October 11th. Joe’s Funeral.BM said my shoes were too festive. They’re black and teal, simply adorned with a small, conservative black bow. Joe would have liked them, I thought and said so out loud. BM gently retorted with “Yeah but would his folks understand that?” Ugh, point taken. I stressed over them and contemplated goin back home to change them (which would mean that we would b late to the funeral). In the end, I didn’t care any more; this ain’t about my shoes or my outfit – it’s about Joe. Besides, I know Joe would have liked my outfit, he’s always been complaining that as a gurl i don’t wear enough dresses.
In Maria’s eulogy, one characterstic she talked about was Joe’s purity. Even though I know she means it in spirit and heart, I coudln’t help but remember how I discovered that he watched the occassional porn. Hehe, I teased the poor guy so much after that. I’m so mean. Though I was really surprised that he thought I’d look down on him for that. As if, the silly goose. =P
We weren’t too sure if we would be allowed to go to the cemetery, as we heard that it was for family and close friends only. I really wanted to go – I needed to know where he would be so I could visit him. So BM and I decided to go, but keep a respectful distance. I’d like to think that Joe considered me as a close friend, I know I thought of him as such, though I don’t know how his family saw me as. To my surprise, one of his aunts asked us to carry a wreath each. Those who held the wreaths stood around his coffin (that’s still so hard to say) through the prayers and then laid them on top.
As he was lowered down into the earth, his family placed pink roses while the rest dropped rose petals in. With handful of soft, velvety petals, I took several steps towards him, tripping over someone’s flowerpot. I looked for where he was. Down, down, down… he’s so far down… My mind froze, my hand automatically released the petals. They floated down; gently, softly, lightly landing on Joe. Joe’s down there… The emotional wave crashed through breaking through all the mental emotional-numbing barriers I’d subconsciously made. An ugly sob tore past my lips unchecked. I stumbled back to where BM was standing, guessing where he was as tears prismed my sight, rendering it impossible to see anything but a myriad of colours. I somehow managed to wrestle the emotion down, but there was an empty spot in my heart and a sadness veiled it.
Joe, I know you would want all of us to be happy, but we cannot help but grieve for the loss of your sweet, happy nature that shone so brightly in our lives. Although we both annoyed each other now and again (something you would never admit to), we were there for each other when it was needed, be it for boredom relief, a d&m, advice, or help with uni work. I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the hospital, I would have given anything to have been there beside you. Had I known! =(
My thoughts are with you. You shall never be forgotten, Joseph Duy Vu. Rest in the peace that is so rightfully deserved.
This is my dedication to you (I know you love long blogs ^_^).
1979 – 2005
