The Inevitability of Life

As much as I try to avoid writing too frequently about the passing of friends, I find no good reason to remain silent about the loss of John Wan, who passed away on 27 March 2022. Some lives leave such a mark that their departure cannot go unacknowledged.

I first received the sad news through a Facebook post by his son, David Wan, on the morning of 27 March. John - whom I fondly and more often called by his given name, Hon Phin - had been a good friend and badminton buddy for as long as I can remember. Over the past few years, his health had been on a slow but visible decline. The passing of his beloved wife in February 2018 may have taken a further toll on his well-being, both physically and emotionally.

John was more than just a friend; he was a comrade-in-arms, someone I had shared countless games, meals, and conversations with over the decades. His sudden departure came at a particularly poignant time - just six weeks earlier, another close badminton buddy who had migrated to Canada had reached out to me, expressing a desire to organize a reunion and "yam cha" session with the old gang upon his return to KK later this year.

There was already a hint of sadness in our conversation when we acknowledged that Peter Lee, another dear member of our group, would no longer be able to join us (Read here). Now, with the passing of Hon Phin, another chair at the reunion table will remain empty.

If the reunion does take place as planned, Hon Phin will be deeply missed. But he will certainly be remembered - in our stories, in our shared laughter, and in the memories that continue to bind us together, even across time and absence.

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Hon Phin was truly a comrade-in-arms in many of our shared endeavours within the BCCM Central Council, BCCM KK, and the schools under the jurisdiction of BCCM KK. His contributions spanned decades, and his legacy remains deeply etched in both church and educational circles.

In the early 1980s, we were actively involved in pioneering cross-cultural evangelistic outreach, particularly among the Rungus community in the interior of Sabah. I still vividly recall one such outreach trip to Pensiangan. After returning, I compiled a set of photographic slides and an accompanying audio recording to document the experience. At that time - long before the digital age when computers and laptops were still in their infancy - group presentations were done using slide projectors. Hon Phin took those slides and audio recordings and put them to good use. He used them not only to raise awareness but also as a tool for fundraising. Remarkably, he even brought them along during a trip to Vancouver, where he shared the presentation with former BCCM members who had migrated to Canada. As a result, several generous donations in Canadian dollars were received.

We also served together for many years on the boards of the three schools under BCCM KK: SM Lok Yuk, SRK Lok Yuk, and SJK(C) Lok Yuk Likas. When BCCM KK (Chinese) and BCCM KK (English) eventually became independent bodies with their own separate councils, the school boards were also restructured. I was appointed as the first Chairman of the School Board for SRK Lok Yuk, while Hon Phin took on the role of the first Chairman for SJK(C) Lok Yuk Likas. His tenure in this position extended for many years and was marked by tireless service and tangible achievements.

His commitment to improving the physical infrastructure of SJK(C) Lok Yuk Likas was especially noteworthy. Under his leadership, and often through his own initiative, two additional school blocks were constructed. One of these buildings included a spacious school hall located on the top floor. I had the privilege of serving as the Civil & Structural Consulting Engineer for both projects. Thanks to Hon Phin’s exceptional public relations skills and extensive network, he managed to raise substantial funds from church members, the wider community, and various levels of government. These projects were completed not just with efficiency, but with vision and care for the future generations.

Even in his passing, his commitment to the school lived on. His family, honoring his legacy, requested that no wreaths be sent. Instead, friends and members of the public were encouraged to donate to SJK(C) Lok Yuk Likas - a fitting tribute to a man whose passion for Chinese education, and for the well-being of the school in particular, was truly extraordinary.

Hon Phin’s contribution to elevating SJK(C) Lok Yuk Likas to the respected institution it is today is indisputable. His legacy lives on - not only in buildings and infrastructure, but in the lives of the students who walk those halls, many of whom will never know the depth of his sacrifice, but who nonetheless benefit from it every day.

Wonderful time!
From left: Liew Kee Yong (Seated), me, Lo Vun Kai, John Wan,
Dr. Thu, Siaw Vui Kiew, Lim Chin Teck.

In the 1980s and 1990s, we had badminton sessions at least twice a week. After a few games, it became our tradition to gather for food and fellowship. John's home was often the welcoming venue for these post-game feasts and friendly conversations, always open to hosting us with warmth and generosity.

This is one of the two blocks completed under his tenure. The school hall is at the top floor.

The Church Council of BCCM KK in early 1980's. John was the Chairman then and in the photo he was seated at the front row fifth from left. I was second from left at the back row. At that time, BCCM KK (E) and BCCM KK (C) still operated as one entity. BCCM KK (C) finally became independent in 1998.

As a delegate from BCCM KK to attend the Biannual BCCM Central Synod in Kudat in early 1980's. John was at front row second from right. I was standing immediately behind him. I was then the youngest among the group. Inevitable in life, many in the group are no longer around!

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On the same day of receiving the news, a former classmate shared in the Chat Group a story by an unnamed author. I find it most appropriate at this time of John Wan's passing. The story has undergone a bit of minor editing.

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A  woman climbed up the bus and sat down beside a man, hitting him with her bag. When the man remained silent, the woman asked him why he did not complain when she hit him with her bag?

The man replied with a smile: "There is no need to be upset about something so insignificant, as our journey together is so short, because I'm getting off at the next stop"

The response impacted the woman so much that she asked the man to forgive her and she was convinced that these words need to be written in gold. 

Each of us must understand that our time in this world is so short, that blackening it with useless arguments, jealousy, unforgiveness, discontentment and bad attitudes are a ridiculous waste of time and energy.

Did someone break your heart?  Stay calm.

The trip is too short. 💛

Did someone betray you, intimidate, cheat or humiliate you? 

Relax - Don't be stressed.

The trip is too short. 💛

Did someone insult you without reason? 

Stay calm. Ignore it.

The trip is too short. 💛

Did someone make a comment  that you didn't like? 

Stay calm. Ignore. Forgive. Keep them in your prayers and love them still for no specific reason. 

The trip is too short. 💛

Whatever the problems some might bring to us, it is a problem only if we think too much of it. Remember that our journey together is too short. 💛

No one knows the length of our trip. No one has seen tomorrow. Nobody knows when the final day will arrive at our doorstep.

Our trip together is too short.💛

Let us appreciate friends and family. Keep them in good humor. Respect them. Let us be respectful, kind, loving and forgiving. Through this, we will be filled with gratitude and joy. 

After all Our trip together is very short. 💛

Share your smiles with everyone. Choose your path to be as beautiful as you wish it to be.

Our Trip is Very Short!  💛

My Uncle Has Gone to Meet the Creator

I last saw Uncle Wesley in early November 2019 at the Tionghua Funeral Parlor in Likas, when I went to pay my final respects to the late Aunty Jainah, his beloved wife (Read here). Earlier this year, I had hoped to visit him again at his home in Kiulu. Sadly, those plans had to be postponed due to the outbreak of the Covid-19 Omicron variant shortly after the Chinese New Year in February.

News of his passing came on 11 March 2022, when my cousin Esther posted on Facebook that Uncle Wesley had died the day before, on 10 March. At the Tionghua Funeral Parlor on 13 March, Esther shared with us that her father was found unconscious in the compound of his house, apparently while doing some gardening. He never regained consciousness. There were no goodbyes. A dark blue patch was discovered at the back of his neck during the examination of his body. Could it have been an aneurysm, just like the one that took my mother years ago?

He will be laid to rest in the family burial ground, just a short walk from his home in Kiulu.

Since Aunty Jainah’s death, Uncle Wesley had continued living in their family home, cared for by a full-time maid. For someone who had spent nearly his entire life closely bonded with his wife, adjusting to her absence must have been unimaginably difficult. Esther told us that, from time to time, her father would be seen wearing his late wife’s clothes around the house - a quiet, poignant reflection of how deeply he missed her. It was a heartwarming and equally heartbreaking detail that spoke volumes about their love.

Through Uncle Wesley, I came to learn much about my maternal family roots (Read here). His passing marks not only the loss of a dear uncle but also the quiet fading of another voice from my mother’s generation.

Over the years, I had visited him several times at his home in Kiulu (Read here), and he too visited me during Chinese New Year in 2013 (Read here).

He will be dearly missed - especially whenever Kiulu is mentioned, or comes to mind.

With cousin, Esther in front of the casket of the deceased.

During my visit to the funeral parlor, I had the opportunity to meet one of Uncle Wesley’s sisters, Aunty Jainih - someone I was meeting for the very first time. The moment I saw her, I was struck by a familiar presence. There was something in her face, her expressions, that reminded me of my mother.

It was an instant connection, and not entirely surprising - after all, they share the same bloodline. Each of them carries a thread of the Gomorun legacy in them, and in Aunty Jainih, I caught a glimpse of that heritage shining through once more.

Chapter 31: Aerogram's Story - An Aborted Trip to Paris

When clearing some of the old files, I found this aerogram written exactly thirty eight years ago on 5 March 1984. This air letter, a thin lightweight piece of folder paper was popular in the 70's and the 80's. But by late 90's when the use of emails exploded worldwide, this mode of exchanging news almost disappeared instantly.

I received this aerogram from my wife when I was in UK for a short course at the Loughbarough University of Technology, UK. The course on "Airports and Environment" lasted a mere five days from 12 March to 16 March 1984. 

I had planned to do some sight-seeing including a trip to Paris after the end of the course. After the course, I was supposed to travel south from London to Sandwich after which I would cross the English Channel via the Euro-Tunnel to Paris. That's the reason why the letter was addressed to my sister-in-law's house in Sandwich. That letter arrived to its destination slightly too early. It was re-directed by my SIL to an address in London, a friend's home where I stayed. 

I was supposed to have visited Paris. Unfortunately, at the very last minute, I had to cancel the trip and rushed back to Sabah for a new job interview. Earlier,  just before leaving for UK for the short course which was near the end of my second 3-year employment contract, I had applied for a new job in the private sector. In the event I was successful, I would not renew for a third contract with PWD.

In the end, I abandoned the trip to Paris in favour of opting for a new job opportunity. I was fortunate to be successful in my new job interview after I returned. That decision changed the course of my whole life. 

By the time I returned to Sabah, it was just a couple of days before my contract with PWD would end on 7 April. The trip to UK turned out to be a sort of a paid overseas holiday trip for my employment contract.

The decision to forgo the trip to Paris was a bitter-sweet decision. It took another thirty years before I finally visited Paris (Read here).