Orchid

Mr Tan sat on his sofa. His left hand gently stroking the worn-out fabric. He looked to his right, to the empty seat beside him. He tried to smile. Just three weeks ago, his wife was sitting there, watching their favourite Teochew Opera on television. He remembered reminiscing with his wife about how they watched the same story when they were dating. During those days, he would hold her hand during the opera. Her small white handkerchief with tiny flowers sequinned at one corner covered their hands. They did not want any relatives to see this public display of affection, which at their time, was still frowned upon.

Tears started to well up inside his eyes and slowly rolled down the side of his wrinkled face. He remembered his wife smiling at him when he tried to sing some of the lines from the opera. He remembered choking and coughing during one of the higher notes, and his wife had to alternate between patting and stroking his back. He thought he could still feel his wife’s hand between his shoulder blades.

Mr Tan looked away from the empty seat. Through his eyes, which were blurred with tears, Mr Tan saw his wife everywhere. He saw her standing at the stove, scooping out a bowl of hot porridge for him. He used to love porridge with sweet potato. Even though this was a simple dish, he loved it. Especially the way she prepared it. He saw her sitting beside the window, in her favourite chair, patching up some holes in his trousers. Her glasses that she only wore during her sewing work were still there on top of the cabinet. He still cleaned the glasses for her each day since three weeks ago. He saw her standing outside the flat, watering the potted plants. He saw her proudly telling him how the orchids had bloomed.

Mr Tan felt lost. Ever since the day he saw her leaving the home on a trolley accompanied by paramedics, he felt lost. As he sat in the ambulance looking at the wife gasping, her face covered by a oxygen mask, he felt lost. As he saw doctors and nurses pulling the curtain around the wife’s bed, he felt lost.

Sitting on the sofa, Mr Tan thought he heard the wife call his name. The seat beside him was still empty. He suddenly felt a sense of calmness and serenity. Drying the tears from his face with a shirtsleeve, he closed his eyes and laid his head back onto the sofa. He would see her soon.

This is dedicated to you. You know who you are.