Its been quite a while since i last did an album recording. Been busy with teaching and my recording skills was left on the shelf. Viola! My latest song recording is for JJ’s new album…
New groovy song with vibes that will go down yr soul. By far my most pleased recording. Did plenty more than previous songs and I like the feel of it so much… Look out for it in stores in a few mths!!
Having the privillege to work with Mr Baey Yam Keng for a few performances, I would like to share with you his parliament speech; a perspective to consider of our Spore culture:
President’s Address
Mr Speaker, Sir, I support the motion standing in the name of the
Member for Jurong GRC, Mdm Halimah Yacob to thank the President for his
Address.
The President spoke about Singapore to become the best place in Asia
to live, work and play. I fully support that vision, and see it
relevant not only to Singaporeans, but also Singaporeans-to-be, foreign
talent, transient residents, visitors and tourists.
However, Singapore needs to be more than just the best upgraded HDB
estate, more than the most luxurious hotel, more than the state-of-the
art research centre, intelligent office tower and the most productive
factory, more than the biggest theme park and the latest night-spot.
Having lived in London for seven years, London is more than the Big
Ben, the West End, the Chinatown and fish & chips to me. According
to London’s official website, “London is the place where the historic
past and the vibrant present come alive. A blend of history,
ground-breaking architecture and culture has created an amazing and
constantly evolving city.” The British have used the tagline “Totally
London”, and we have come up with “Uniquely Singapore”.
What is Singapore unique for? What does it mean to be a
Singaporean? In the past, the government has had various initiatives
to develop and market the Singapore identity. There was the creation
of the Merlion, the orchid motif Singapore Dress, we even came out with
the National Ideology, with a set of shared values and Singapore 21.
The government can set a vision, but I think the national identity is best forged from the ground up.
Our local Chinese pop culture is a good example of Singapore culture
that has found a life on its own, without much governmental support or
intervention.
Our Chinese pop artistes have done well. At the recent Global
Chinese Music Awards held in Singapore, Stephanie Sun won five awards,
including most Popular Female Artiste and Best Album. Tanya Chua was
the best female vocalist at the prestigious Taiwan Golden Melody Award.
Besides singers, our composers like twin brothers Li Weisong and
Sisong, Liang Wenfu, lyricist Xiao Han and music producer Billy Koh
have groomed and worked with some of the top singers in Chinese pop.
I must say twenty years ago, as a young boy infatuated with Chinese
pop, I never dreamed that Singaporean singers or songs would ever make
it this big. Pop songs do play a big part in our growing-up
experience, be it Beatles, Abba, Canto pop, J-pop or K-pop. For me, it
was xinyao, literally translated as Singapore Songs. They were simple
and amateurish, but it had a huge following in the eighties, and in my
opinion, that was the foundation of the Chinese pop success we are
seeing today.
We should embrace Singapore pop culture more. Singapore Tourism
Board has appointed pop singer JJ Lin Junjie as its ambassador for the
Chinese market. This is a good illustration that pop culture can also
help with tourism receipts and economic returns, like what we have seen
in Hollywood for the US, Bollywood for India and Hallyu for Korea.
There is a lot more potential we can explore.
Another unique part of the Singapore identity is our language.
While Singlish is not, and should not be our official language, it is
one of the most accurate tell-tale signs that help us identify fellow
Singaporeans in a foreign city. Singlish gave us the word ‘kiasuism’,
which is technically not a ‘Uniquely Singapore’ trait or behaviour, but
a universal one. In fact, I think Mr Bean is someone who has presented
the true flavour of ‘kiasuism’. While Rowan Atkinson illustrates it
best in his actions and facial expression, it is here in Singapore,
where we have found the very word to describe it!
Having said that, I fully applaud the Huayu Cool and Speak Good
English campaigns, as with globalisation, besides understanding fellow
countrymen, we need to communicate, and communicate well with people
around the globe. I used to travel to the Netherlands, and learned
that the Dutch is one of the most linguistically talented people as
most of them speak at least three languages. As a predominantly
Chinese population, Singapore has access to two of the most widely
spoken languages in the world.
Some people will remind me that it may not be a good comparison as
there are similarities within the Indo-European family of languages,
but English and Mandarin are fundamentally different and will be
difficult languages to be mastered at the same time. However, I am
happy to observe that we do have increasing numbers of bilingual
talents in Singapore. A senior radio manager recently shared with me
that it is now easier to find good bilingual deejays. I also see many
TV reporters now filing news with equal competence and eloquence on
both Channel News Asia and Channel 8 News.
I was watching Forbidden City two months ago, and like many in the
audience, I was impressed by Kit Chan’s powerful vocals. It suddenly
dawned upon me that, perhaps only in Singapore, can we find a talent
who is equally at ease on the stage of Forbidden City and the Chinese
musical Snow Wolf Lake.
Having said that, there is more that can be done to leverage on the
population profile of Singapore and make us a truly bilingual, if not
trilingual or even multi-lingual society. To master a language, one
needs an environment to listen, speak, read and write. The government
can take the lead to provide this environment.
The term “East meets West” is often coined on Singapore, but I think
Singapore is equally, if not more a “East meets East” society. Our
forefathers brought with them their long history, culture and
traditions from China and India, and with the indigenous Malay
heritage, today we enjoy the diversity and richness of different races,
religions and languages. I have to admit that I used to be a skeptical
young Singaporean who sees the faces of different races on official
materials as totally deliberate and artificial. However, in July this
year, I was treated to a spectacle of colours and vibrancy of our
varied cultures when I watched Soundwaves by the People’s Association.
As someone familiar with stage productions, I gave it top marks in its
tastefully integrated performance representing our cultural mix. This
is true creativity and artistic vision at work.
Besides the creative director Dick Lee who is no stranger to
intercultural experiments with his Fried Rice Paradise and Mad
Chinaman, there are also other such examples. The Singapore Chinese
Orchestra has shown its versatility with Malay melodies, and theatre
director Ong Keng Sen is well known in the international arts scene for
his intercultural Shakespeare-inspired trilogy which beautifully fuses
various Asian performing art forms. Recently I watched a local Hokkien
opera based on the Indian epic Mahabharata scripted and produced by the
Chinese Opera Institute.
We should encourage this special blend of cultures. A tourist would
be more interested in our local performances which truly reflect our
delicious “rojak” heritage. Having said that, a blend of cultures will
only be meaningful and successful if there is first a strong foundation
in the respective cultures, whether traditional or contemporary. It is
the artistic stroke of creativity that will conjure the magic. We must
remind ourselves that we should not be looking for overnight or even
near-term success. It took xinyao some twenty years to evolve into the
Singapore Chinese pop today.
I am glad to note that besides investing in physical arts and
cultural infrastructure, the government will be encouraging a greater
diversity of involvement in our arts and cultural sectors. I would
like to point out that good quality works is one key prerequisite to
draw the audiences. We must not neglect the investment in capabilities
to create more original and interesting artistic and creative works.
I often lament that in land-scarce Singapore, much of our physical
heritage has to make way for new developments. Most of my student days
can only be relived in my memory, with teachers, ex-classmates and
through old photographs, as many of my school buildings are no longer
standing. Some have even ceased to exist in name.
This is where arts and culture can play a significant role. I am
not a nostalgic person, but we can use arts and culture to inform the
young generation of the past, sometimes not too distant past, and not
to take things for granted.
As I read the grand plans under Intelligent Nation 2015, I cannot
help but remember the days when mobile communications is not so
prevalent. In a play I produced in 1991, a doting mother bought a
mobile phone for her daughter who was moving to the university hostel
so that she could call her every night. That scene was greeted with a
round of ‘wows’ in the audience, but 15 years later today, even a
primary school kid carries a mobile phone!
Movies can also serve as historical documents. I remember vividly
the images of our humble provision shops in Eric Khoo’s film Be With
Me. As the movie travels in the international film festival circuit,
audiences around the world discover another face of Singapore that may
not be spanking clean and modern, but a very real and authentic facet
of our society which is fast disappearing. This is more engaging than
a picture in the archives or museum.
Now, I would like to move on to the subject of new media, another
means of self and cultural expression. New media’s impact on the
young, to say the least, has been massive.
Compared to traditional media, new media is much less structured; it
is more informal and also more difficult to control. It is a virtual
world with its own parameters, rules and regulations. Its estate or
space is both private and public. It has both advantages and
disadvantages. It presents new opportunities and solutions as well as
new problems. It is a force to be reckoned with and most people in the
developed world cannot envision a future without it. We are beginning
to see its social, political and economic powers.
It was reported recently that Google UK is poised to overtake UK’s
main TV channels in advertising revenue within the year. It is
therefore a wise choice that the government has identified interactive
& digital media as a new sector to grow. We should harness the
power of both new and old media, for instance, in using them for cross
communications and marketing to different audiences. The popularity of
Singapore Idol and the Idol format around the world was largely due to
its ability to leverage on both the traditional TV media and the new
mobile media. It manages to engage the audience and turn them into
fans who like the power to be able to pick their winner.
The global media scene will continue to evolve. From the ancient
days of using smoke signals, pigeons, to print, radio, television, fax,
telephony, mobile and now the internet, it does not mean the emergence
of one new media will always replace another. The radio continued to
survive in the advent of the TV. In fact, it became more accessible
with the emergence of the portable radio, then the car radio, followed
by the mobile phone radio.
It is a media ecosystem when many can co-exist and will co-evolve.
Even The Straits Times has launched STOMP and vodcasts, and Channel
News Asia has its BlogTV.sg. One thing is certain, with technology
advancement, the speed of evolution will be faster and people’s
lifestyles and expectations will also change at a quicker pace.
The convergence of media can pose problems for the conscientious
censor. On the other hand, the good citizens of the world can now also
play a bigger role in helping to police our virtual space. For
example, the Wikipedia is a self-regulating resource. As reported in
The Chronicle of Higher Education in Oct 2006, Alexander M.C. Halavais,
an Assistant Professor with the State University of New York at
Buffalo, slipped in 13 errors in Wikipedia. In less than three hours,
all of his false facts had been deleted, thanks to the vigilance of
Wikipedia editors who regularly check recently updated entries. On Dr
Halawi’s “user talk” page, one Wikipedian pleaded with him to “refrain
from writing nonsense articles and falsifying information.”
The differences between new media and traditional media call for
different treatments from the authorities. We can allow different
platforms for responsible and less responsible expression of views, eg
全民乱讲 is for all citizens to talk nonsense, 全民开讲 allows all citizens to
speak their minds，and 全民好好讲 calls for all citizens to have a good
discussion. I believe people will know which programme is meant to
serve what target audience. What the government should ensure is that
there is no masquerading.
The government should not and cannot hold itself responsible for
what the people see or read. Otherwise, Singaporeans risk losing the
ability to think, evaluate and judge for themselves. The Mr Brown
incident illustrates too clearly how new and old media could have
engaged each other better. Having driven negative comments or untrue
information about the government underground, into the labyrinth of
virtual space, the government loses an opportunity to engage the
propagators and dispel the erroneous statements.
As I read comments in the newspapers and compare them with those in
blogs and online forums, I sometimes wonder if they are from two
different populations talking about two different countries. I do not
think that the reality is mostly positive like in the traditional media
or like what the new media is portraying, mostly negative and
critical. I believe the real world is somewhere in between.
We have to accept that it will be very difficult, in fact,
impossible to monitor and rebut all negative online comments against
the government. We should also consider relaxing regulations on
traditional media to allow people to vent grouses and frustrations,
without always demanding for constructive suggestions. Singaporeans
can then engage openly in meaningful, level-headed discussions without
fear of prosecution. Erroneous assumptions, wrong ideas, narrow
mindsets, prejudices and biases, loyalties, tolerance and wisdom can
all be brought to the light of day and seen clearly for what they are.
I believe in the Singaporean’s ability to discern wisely. Even if we
may not be able to do so accurately, that is our judgment and that
judgment should be given the opportunity to be sharpened.
A few months ago, Lianhe Zaobao and My Paper featured articles about
the “strawberry generation”, a description of “soft”, young people with
little determination, weak wills and dependent mindsets who are unable
to take the slightest of hardship. They are adults but they still turn
to their parents for pocket money. They have difficulties holding down
a job. I wonder if this reflects, on a micro level, a side effect of
our government’s parental style towards its citizens. If our
government trusts the general public’s ability to refrain from
uncontrolled gambling by allowing casinos, she should also trust its
ability to tell right from wrong, black from white, or even grey, on
other issues. Thus, I urge the government to consider amendments to
our media legislation so as to promote greater media freedom.
This, I believe, would encourage greater creativity in this sector,
leading to spill-over effect in other sectors and professions in
Singapore. Creativity exists in all sectors and industries. As we
nurture creativity in every aspect of our lives, it would become part
of ourselves, our DNA, our lifestyles, our identity. Creativity is
doing things in a different way which adds value and benefits, which no
one else has done before. Creativity is working smart. Creativity is
the new cutting edge. Creativity is that which will provide us with
the lead over our competitors.
I look forward to the day when creativity is synonymous with the
Singapore national identity, the Singapore brand. When that day comes,
we can be assured that our survival as a nation is secure and the
future, ever the brighter.
Mr Speaker, Sir, I support the Motion of Thanks.
Iron sharpens Iron True, yet there is friction when that happens. We all say that we want to grow yet, are we ready to face the correcting in our lives? The humbling of one soul and pride? Is being a better person more important than having the pride you have? You may say Yes; we all say Yes. But you will only know if you really meant it when you are being sharpen by your peers
Friends are here to help each other become better people
Friends are true when u know they want u to be the best that I can be
Friends are not just there for u; they see u through and they know when to tell u to stop my self-pity
Friends help u to wake up when u get lost
Friends tell u to shake off the dependency on anything else but God
Friends tell u off even when it hurts and even if means the expense of the relationship
Friends stay true; even when they are not thought of that way.
As CEO at accounting giant KPMG, Eugene O’Kelly was so immersed in his job that over the course of a decade, he managed to have lunch with his wife on weekdays just twice. His travel schedule was set 18 months out. Once, he was so obsessed with impressing a potential client that he tracked down the man’s travel schedule, booked the seat next to him on a flight, schmoozed the guy all the way to Australia, landed the account, and flew immediately back to Manhattan. His Type-A ways vanished when, at age 53, a top neurosurgeon in
New York
told him he had late- stage brain cancer. "His eyes told me I would die soon. It was late spring. I had seen my last autumn in
New York
.”
There are no TV-movie-style miracle treatments or extensions of his life expectancy; he’s told he has maybe 3 months, and he doesn’t spend any energy hoping for a cure. True to his CEO style, he creates goals for himself, lists of friends to visit for the last time; he meditates; he tries to create as many "Perfect Moments" that he can, during dinner or phone conversations with friends, and realized how few rare those moments of connection and joy were in his "previous life."[p116] "Chasing Daylight" is as much a self-criticism of his job-before- family ways as it is a meditation on time and a transition to a tranquil, spiritual state utterly foreign to him as a CEO. O’Kelly’s absolutely more fulfilled by the soul work that he finishes in 100 days, compared to his 30 years of corporate promotions and accolades, and he utterly convinces readers to ponder their own situation, whether "in the gloaming" of life as he was or not.– Erica Jorgensen
**************************************************************************************************************
The Times
March 14, 2006
Extracted from Chasing Daylight: How My Forthcoming Death Transformed My Life by Eugene O’Kelly and Corinne O’Kelly, (c) 2006 The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc,
Closing the circle
Three months before he died Eugene O’Kelly was one of the most powerful businessmen in
America
. Then he was told he had brain cancer. In a moving memoir he describes what his preparations for death taught him about his life
One day not long ago, I sat atop the world. From this perch I had an overview that was relatively rare in business, a perspective that allowed me access to the inner workings of many of the world’s finest, most successful companies and the extraordinary minds that ran them. At times I felt like a great eagle on a mountain top not because of any invincibility I felt, but for the picture it afforded me.
Overnight, I found myself sitting in a very different perch: a hard metal chair, looking across a desk at a doctor whose expression was way too full of empathy for my liking. His eyes told me I would die soon. It was late spring. I had seen my last autumn in
New York
.
The verdict I received in the last week of May 2005 that it was unlikely I’d make it to September turned out to be a gift. Honestly, because I was forced at the age of 53 to think seriously about my own death, which meant I was forced to think more deeply about my life than I’d ever done.
As CEO and chairman of KPMG, the $4 billion (£2.32 billion), 20,000-employee, century-plus-old partnership, one of America’s Big Four accounting firms, I was not a man given to hypotheticals too straight ahead in my thinking for that but just for a moment, suppose there had been no death sentence. Wouldn’t it be nice still to be planning, building and leading for years to come? Yes and no. Yes, because of course I’d like to have been around to see my daughter Gina graduate and marry and have children (in whatever order she ends up doing all that). To spend next Christmas Eve, the day before my older daughter Marianne’s birthday, eating and talking and laughing the way we did every year. To travel and play golf with my wife of 27 years, Corinne, the girl of my dreams, and to share with her the retirement in
Arizona
we’d planned for so long.
But I also say no. No, because, thanks to my situation, I’d attained a new level of awareness, one I didn’t possess in the first 53 years of my life. It’s impossible for me to imagine going back to that other way of thinking, when this new way has enriched me so. I lost something precious, but I also gained something precious.
In my past life, here was a Perfect Day: I’d have a couple of face-to-face client meetings, my favourite thing of all. I’d meet with at least one member of my inner team. I’d speak on the phone with partners. I’d complete lots of the items listed in my electronic calendar. And I’d move ahead in making our firm a great place to work, one that allowed our people to live more balanced lives.
For me personally for any executive, but especially the top guy that last plank in the platform was particularly difficult to achieve. Don’t get me wrong: I loved my firm. I was passionate about accounting (Don’t laugh.) But the job of CEO, while of course incredibly privileged, was relentless. My diary was perpetually extended out over the next 18 months. I worked weekends and late into many nights. I missed virtually every school function for my younger daughter. My annual travel schedule averaged, conservatively, 150,000 miles. For the first ten years of my marriage, when I was climbing the ladder at KPMG, Corinne and I rarely went on vacation. Over the course of my last decade with the firm, I did manage to squeeze in workday lunches with my wife. Twice.
Before this starts to sound like complaining, I must be honest: As long as I could handle such a high-pressure position, I wanted it. As profound as my devotion to and love for my family was, I could not have settled for a job just because it guaranteed that I could make PTA meetings. People don’t walk into the top spot. They’re driven.
When Corinne and I showed up at the neurologist’s office on Tuesday, May 24, we were both convinced that the drooping of muscle in my cheek and at the corner of my mouth was caused by something stress-related, probably Bell’s palsy. I was asked some questions, then put through what seemed a pretty standard physical exam. The neurologist said that she wanted me to come in for an MRI first thing the following morning. This was one time where the virtue of promptness did not gratify me getting bumped to the head of the MRI line was not the sort of privilege you want to experience.
A week later, the biopsy that was supposed to take two hours took three. Halfway through, the surgeon came out to tell Corinne that the first tissue sample he’d removed from my brain was "necrotic" dead. Not dying, but already dead. Later, when the doctor could address Corinne and me together, he recommended radiation, which might provide a couple of extra months more than whatever I had left. There was no cure, he said. "This is terminal."
My days as a man at the top of his game, vigorous and productive, were done, just like that. The whole of my life, I had expected people to operate at a high standard. If they didn’t, they might lose my confidence. I don’t mean to say that I lacked compassion; it’s just that, in the business world, our index for evaluating people was competency. It had to be. If someone said something that was carelessly conceived whether it was one of the firm’s senior partners or my teenage daughter I was not above telling him or her that it was "a stupid thing to say".
My daily experience at the radiation clinic made me realise that was not the index I could use any more. Things don’t go according to plan. In fact, they almost never did. Sitting in that room, waiting for my turn to have the waffle-mask put over my face so they could zap my brain with laser beams, I watched people around me grow frustrated. I tried not to let it happen to me.
It was at the clinic that I really began to understand acceptance. Having entered the final phase of my life, what choice did I have but to accept it? Apparently, I wasn’t too old to learn something new. You can’t control everything.
One of my tasks before I died was to "unwind", or close or, as I saw it, beautifully resolve my personal relationships. I wanted to do the very thing that wiser people advise us to do to stop long enough to think about the people we love and why we love them.
A few days after the diagnosis had been confirmed; I sat down at the dining-room table and drew this diagram. The outermost circle was made up of classmates, acquaintances, neighbours, people who had enriched my life just by being in it. When I sat down to list all the people who merited inclusion, I was astounded to see that it came to almost one thousand. An unbelievable number.
I couldn’t possibly "close" all of these relationships. Those that I did address maybe half, maybe less than that I closed almost exclusively through mail. A number of them I did by phone. In each case, I tried to focus on something especially meaningful. I attempted to turn the occasion into what I had come to think of as a Perfect Moment.
A Perfect Moment was a little gift of an hour or an afternoon. Its actual length was never the issue. The key thing was that you had to be open to a Perfect Moment. The radiation machine breaks down; one hour is going to come and go, an hour you can hardly spare; but then you accept that machines break down. You don’t get frustrated. You focus instead on something pleasing. The beautiful poem your daughter wrote. The colour of the sky out the window.
Or you stroll with your wife past the Central Park Boathouse already it’s a Perfect Moment, a beautiful day. Such a beautiful day, in fact, that it’s impossible to get a table at the boathouse restaurant, and normally you wouldn’t even bother to ask. But that was before you were open to all kinds of moments. Somehow, a table has opened. You sit down. The serendipity of the day’s unfolding is making it perfect.
Given my natural thoroughness, I had to remind myself how easy it could be to spend lots of time with the outer circle, which would ultimately be at the expense of the inner circles. I thought about how, during my previous life, I might have unconsciously been too consumed by the outermost circle. At work, with constant demands on my time, I’d got into the habit of meeting with certain people good people, but nonetheless fifth-circle people. Was it necessary to have breakfast with them four times a month? I could have done less of that.
Perhaps I could have found time, in the last decade, to have had a weekday lunch with my wife more than . . . twice? Where had I found the nerve to press so hard for our firm to rework its culture, encouraging our partners and employees to live more balanced lives, when my own was out of balance? I realised that being able to count a thousand people in that fifth circle was not something to be proud of. Please don’t misunderstand: the people who populate it are worthwhile, and belong in the first circle of other people. They’re just not the people who should have consumed the time and energy that they did for me. I moved further inward and I marvelled at how many Perfect Moments I was having. As much as I had loved the hustle and bustle of my previous life, I couldn’t help but think back on how rare such moments had been.
Of course there had been Perfect Moments in my past. The day I married Corinne. The day I adopted Marianne. The day Gina was born. But almost all those moments one could have seen coming. They weren’t the mundane, fabric-of-life stuff. Maybe other people appreciate the perfection in small moments; I was just too caught up in my fast-paced, high-pressure life to ever get at the sublimeness embedded in them.
I experienced more Perfect Moments and Perfect Days in two weeks than I had in the past five years.
Unwinding relationships with close lifetime friends was easiest, I noticed, when my friends had a belief in God and/or a very solid marriage or partnership. Those who lacked both didn’t handle our closing well. Often there was a third reason: they themselves were suffering through some big personal issue, and I served as a troubling reminder of how much they yet had to deal with. Our conversation brought them not pleasure but rather pain and anger. Of course I didn’t mean that to happen, but neither could I help it. Some friends wanted to prolong our final encounter. They continued to call me. "I’d like this to be it," I would say. "Trying to improve on a perfect moment never works."
Not a popular answer. Too final. Kind of cold, actually.
Although I was not there yet, my mind wandered often to my unwinding with Gina. She had recently turned 14, and, like anyone that age, she had her days. We’d frequently go out for delicious lunches, and we loved sharing our theories. But both of us could have short tempers, and obviously we were frustrated by what was happening. I wanted her to understand my confidence and pride in, and profound love for her. But I struggled to come up with the best way for a father to make his daughter see him for who he was, rather than for how long he had stayed.
This was the best day of my life. Corinne, Gina and I were at
Lake Tahoe
, where we had a vacation home. We took a boat out. For the first time, I sat in front, the only place Gina ever sits. The water looked like glass. There were hardly any other boats out, or it seemed that way. We crossed the lake. We seemed to be riding not in the water but on it, skating along the surface. It seemed as if I was part of the water.
It went on for miles and miles. I loved the sensation of being so close to the water. Or really, it wasn’t so much that I loved anything, but just that I had the sensation, felt it fully. Corinne and I decided that afternoon that we would both have our ashes spread upon the waters of
Emerald
Bay
, in a very particular spot that we loved.
I was getting closer to zero miles an hour. My mother and my brother flew to Tahoe. I took my mother’s hand and told her I was in a good place. A person of deep faith, she was comfortable with that.
Later, my brother and I talked alone. He was angry that this should be happening to me. "Your anger won’t do anyone any good," I said. I told him to take the energy he was spending being angry at the world, double it, and channel it into love for his children (or even more love, I should say, because William already loved his daughters and son dearly).
He promised me he would.
It was a perfect day. I felt complete. Spent but complete.
‘I’ve had a great life,’ he told me
Eugene O’Kelly’s wife Corinne wrote the final chapter of their book:
By late summer, the unwindings were taking their toll. One of our last nights in Tahoe, I felt him starting to go. He just suddenly felt far away. It was the evening after his mother and brother had left. I was lying on the couch, in his arms. I commented on his "absence" and he responded: "You’re going to have to take over now. I’ve done all I can do."
It took my breath away.
We flew to
New York
, where Gene was admitted to
Sloan-Kettering
Hospital
. His body was seriously starting to fail. He was aware of it.
The doctors wanted to take a sonogram of his stomach. "No more tests," he told them. He was not getting out of bed for that. It made sense. Staying alive at all costs was not the goal not any more and he didn’t want to waste any my energy enduring medical procedures that, at this stage, were pointless.
Gene rarely spoke except to me or the doctors. "I’ve had a great life," he said as we lay in each other’s arms in the cramped hospital bed. We talked of other very personal things. We talked about the book how it would be the culmination of 30 years of teamwork. He told me how my insights on death and dying had helped him to transcend his fear. As a health-care provider [she is a former nurse] who had witnessed death routinely, I had come to realise that if you conquer your fear, you conquer your death. This had been my clearest message to Gene during the past three months. He was embracing it, finally.
On Wednesday, we were finally able to bring him home, where he so desperately wanted to be. Back at our
New York
apartment, the one we’d rented just three months before and hadn’t even moved into when cancer was diagnosed, a hospital bed was brought in. He would die at home, where most people would die if they could.
On Thursday, a doctor from a hospice service came to our house. The doctor realised that Gene’s "unwinding" plan was somewhat compulsive and seriously Type A wanting to tie everything up, as if that were possible but that ultimately it was positive. The doctor couldn’t help but compare Gene’s attitude with that of another man he had recently tended, a very senior executive at one of the big pharmaceutical companies. This man was about 60, not particularly close to his family, not close to his children, with no real spiritual foundation and he would talk and mumble and even cry out in the middle of the night, angrily barking the names of colleagues and superiors (his CEO was the preferred whipping boy). His rantings were deeply upsetting to his wife and to others who came to see him. The man had to be heavily medicated. He died restless.
Gene was fortunate not to have physical pain, but he had also done himself and those around him a hugely positive thing by resolving his relationships and embracing what was happening to him. "Your husband isn’t agitated," the hospice doctor said. "He’s peaceful."
At some point that day, Gina, Marianne and I were seated around Gene’s bed. He looked at the three of us. "That’s the most beautiful sight in the world," he said.
On Saturday, my brother Donald drove down from
Massachusetts
. He and Gene talked in the bedroom. When Donald came out, he said that Gene was worried about me. Donald said he had assured Gene that I would be OK, and that he would watch out for me. In the afternoon, Gene said to me, "Most people do not have the right mind or body to be able to die consciously." Finally I was able to understand that to him, mind meant mental discipline and body meant soul. I asked Gene if he was prepared to leave me. "I think so," he replied. I told him not to hang on and assured him I would be all right.
Less than three hours later, at 8.01 in the evening of Saturday, September 10, my husband died. He suffered another pulmonary embolism, which the doctors said is one of the best ways to go, in the circumstances. Essentially, the embolism cuts off the oxygen supply to the brain the mind just shuts down, then the body does. It is considered one of the quickest and least traumatic ways to leave. At the moment of death, Gene was surrounded by four women, each of whom had had medical training: Gene’s sister Rose, my sister Darlene (who’d been an ICU nurse for 20 years), the night-duty nurse, and me. It was good not only for Gene to have had that, but that we women had each other.
As prepared as we all were, the moment was still tense. I’d never witnessed someone die from a pulmonary embolism and my only concern was that Gene not feel the fear that accompanies asphyxiation. Rose knew all about it, so she could talk me through the stages. She was comforted by the peace of the passing: the numerous deaths she had witnessed in hospitals had almost all been traumatic.
Now that Gene’s journey was over, I was somewhat relieved. I felt numb the rest of the evening. Rose, Darlene and I waited for Gene to be taken away. Afterwards, we sat in the kitchen and drank one of Gene’s favourite bottles of wine and talked about what we had all experienced. The next morning, I felt sublime joy and tranquility. The pain of loss would set in later. This was a time of celebration. Gene had left in peace. I looked out at the river and saw the sunlight glittering on the water. It was a Perfect Moment.
During the last days of his life, Gene worked hard at dying. Gene had always worked hard at everything.
There are things that could have been done differently. But his overall pursuit of unwinding was important and right. The nature of the unwindings changed as Gene got closer to the centre of the circle; while "perfect" exchanges can happen for many in the outer rings, for those closest to you there is no single gesture that really allows you to say goodbye to each other. The letting go of attachments differs as you close in on the centre of the circle because your relation to those individuals is intricately woven into your being. These relationships can be "unwound" successfully only when both people can let go. It is difficult and painful. It was my deep love of Gene that enabled me to encourage him to go. Today, if he appeared before me, I would not be so strong.
Passing thru the sands of time
are the lives of many and the prints they leave behind.
Many live for their own desires
while others live for the many.
Seasons come and seasons go
But the decisions we make; they will never go
Everything is a butterfly effect
all things that happen is a reaction of a action.
We all know; but do we all care?
Will the prints you leave inspire others?
Will your life change the lives of many?
What kind of prints have you left behind?
Isn’t Life just wonderful?
It is just like a picture of a beautiful sky
The wonderful colors that catches your eye
The reds, the blues, the cools and the warms
Yet we musn’t forget the grays that comes along
How will a sky be beautiful if we miss out the dulls
Beauty is only appreciated when the opposite is in place
Good will never be truly good if you have never tasted the bad
There must be patches of dulls in a pic to make the pic truly complete
That all who sees shall say that it is indeed a beautiful pic
Life is just the same.
Without sorrows, trials and valleys, our lives can never be fully complete
neither can the beauty of life be fully understood.
Just remember that rainbows only appear after the rain has gone
What makes a person above average?
What makes another just average?
Is it the perfect face?
Or is it just the love in one’s eyes?
Is it the riches that one own?
Or is it just the love that one show?
Is it the education that one has?
Or is it just the willingness to learn?
Is it the jobs that we hold?
Or is it the attitude behind the jobs?
You shall be high and above in the eyes of others;
When you place yourself below all others.
When my heart burns with passion, my burden is set on fire.
The harvest is plenty but the laborers few.
The adults may be hard but they too have a heart.
Let not your mind restrict you but let your mind release you
Step out and go! And your faith will never fail you
Hey Its my 1st photo with dear babe Angeline…. I decided to keep a blog after all. Well i guess, it is a way of sharing thoughts and for frens to have a glimpse of my life.
As written by my fave author CS Lewis: If you see things through a blue lens, everything looks blue; despite the fact that they really ain’t blue at all.
I guess we all make that same mistake time and time again.. but how many of us have ever stepped out to discover the truth for ourselves? We hear one too many comments about the things that are happening around us. Yet are they all true? My advice my dear frens, go and seek the truth for it shall set you free from all your doubts and queries. For after all, it cost you nothing and it doesnt hurt you a tiny bit…. and you will be in for a surprise, it may just change your life.; for the better of course. Life is a mystery; its there for you to discover.
