Jurong, 69 km. Yesterday, I visit an (ex) colleague spending her last days in a hospice. Today, I go to a wake - another colleague's grandpa is dead. He would've been 108 if he'd lived till his next birthday. H
The dead guy lived through five governments (including the Japanese Occupation) and the Great Depression. The dying lady is half his aged and didn't even get to retire. She's so responsible; when she was on extended leave (before going to the hospice), she'd help her replacement by phone.
This is the first time I've cycled to a wake and "meet" anyone a century old. I get lost on the way home, but make it back, taking the long way home. The route is the same, but a large part has been widened, with new asphalt.
I ponder about life, about what I'm doing with mine, and how a few seconds of adjusting the air conditioner for my dying friend made such a difference to her.
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