The couple of 13 years were meant to walk down the aisle -- slowly and romantically -- to the beat and pace of whatever cheesy wedding song is being played.
At this moment, the pace was just right -- slow. And the mood is somewhat romantic.
The bride and groom weren't walking down the aisle by themselves: They were accompanied by six others who formed a small band of pall bearers.
Even as I write this, I am still in disbelief.
It would have been the happiest day of their lives.
Instead, the wedding day turns out to be the funeral for one of the lovebirds.
"I still keep thinking of her," Stanley Ong, my sex bunny friend said in between quiet sobs.
For this live funeral stream, I had taken two days off to keep Stanley company. I stayed over at his place the night before, and on the day of the live stream funeral, got up early with him at around 7am to help him light candles around the house, and set up his screen mirror function on his TV.
Debbie is Stanley's JC friend.
She's what some describe as Little Miss Sunshine except she's not that little.
Debbie is delightfully plump, never says no to food, and laughs the loudest at jokes, the type that is so contagious that you'd laugh along with her even if you don't know what the joke is.
Needless to say, Debbie is very well loved by all.
Much of my impression of Debbie comes from Stanley's occasional anecdotes of his good ol' JC days.
Of how they'd both buy fried chicken drumstick from the school tuckshop and eat discretely in class.
Of how they'd sit by the school gazebo with open textbooks but not actually studying.
Debbie was an arts student and loved and lived life to the fullest.
She had vast interests too -- from taking hikes to collecting lego, and baking cookies to worshiping Kylie Minogue.
When Debbie was in her early-30s, she gave up her job as a teacher and flew to Australia to live with the love of her life, Robert.
Since then, the couple had been living happily ever after.
Stanley would often comment on Debbie's Facebook photos in the early days of her life there.
The couple had bought a three-storey house and had often hosted many loud, happy parties there.
Their tables would often be filled with oven-baked stuff: lasagna, chicken, pies (by Robert) or nonya laksa, pig trotters in vinegar and curry fish head (some of Debbie's best homemade dishes).
I'm often told that their parties were filled with laughter and board games like Jenga, Monopoly or charades.
Earlier this year, Stanley got a call from Debbie who told him "best news ever".
After being partnered to Robert for more than 10 years, the two decided to get married so that they can plan their second half of their lives with greater clarity.
It would be a small gathering attended by immediate family in Australia, followed by a similar reception in the Singapore leg in the later part of this year.
And then, it happened.
Debbie, who taught art to children, took three weeks of wedding leave and on the first day of her leave, left home for her morning stroll near their house.
She had visited her favourite cafe and took away coffee to the park, her usual weekend morning routine.
Debbie's mind must have been at peace that day. Favourite coffee in tow, a lovely morning at the park where the trees are green, birds are chirping. Her mind must also have been in working mode: Planning for her wedding and most importantly, imagining life as an old married couple with Robert.
Then Debbie collapsed.
According to those at the park (who relayed that info to the police and to Robert, and in turn, to Debbie's friends in Singapore), Debbie had apparently attempted to get up once. Then she collapsed again.
"It was a heart attack," Stanley explained in a defeated whisper.
It was a brutal attack. An attack that had singlehandedly snatched Debbie away from Robert. An attack that left painful bruises in the hearts of all Debbie's loved ones.
As if the sudden turn of events weren't dramatic enough, Debbie had just celebrated Robert's birthday three days before her untimely death. They had both chosen that birthday month to get married because 13 years ago, it was at Robert's birthday party where a giggly Debbie was first introduced to Robert who was then visiting Singapore.
So it would have been a series of celebrations that month: Robert's birthday, their anniversary, their wedding.
And now, it's a funeral.
But it's also a celebration of sorts.
The theme of the funeral was to celebrate Debbie's colourful life and to remember her zest and love for everything.
In respect of Debbie, I threw on a multi-coloured sweater while Stanley wore a floral print, baby blue shirt with a loud pink tie that matched his pink berms.
That morning, we started the day at Stanley's home where he lit candles for Debbie.
I joined Stanley in saying the Hail Mary for Debbie.
Stanley then made us coffee and brought out snacks -- Hello Panda (chocolate and strawberry), in loving memory of Debbie, who loved snacking on those creamy bites back in JC.
Watching a livestreamed funeral was surreal.
We weren't there but we were there in every aspect.
The event was filled with speeches after speeches by some of Debbie's closest friends and family.
There were tears, of course, but mostly laughter because Debbie's friends came up and shared the most ridiculously funny stories which Stanley affirms as "very Debbie".
Of how she once almost hurled ice-cream at a group of burly blokes who were taunting two drag queens on the streets.
Of how she would always hug everyone in a tight embrace until she heard a rib crack.
Of how she would always debate with Robert on what to gift his little nephew and nieces on their birthdays (Robert always wanted educational presents while Debbie always insisted that "a little fun won't harm).
I watched Stanley from the couch.
He laughed, he cried, he buried his face in both hands, he breathed in tears and mucous theatrically and fanned his face with both palms. And then repeat.
The three-hour funeral session was very powerful.
And it painted an even brighter picture of the lovable art educator Debbie who is obviously well-loved.
At one point, which Stanley again said was "very Debbie", there was a mass dance.
Stanley immediately sprang up from his couch and morphed into a worm on drugs, wriggling and gyrating vertically with his eyes closed, lips pursed.
I joined him in loving memory of Debbie.
The session closed with one of the most touching speeches which even I couldn't help but cry uncontrollably.
One of her closest friends ended the funeral session with Debbie's catchprhase.
"Let me know when you get home safe".
In loving memory of the one whom we've grown to love;
1979 - 2022
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