Gone are the days when, in our twenties and early thirties, we part ways with our money, stuff them into red packets just to celebrate straight people’s lifestyles choices.
At our age — dear god, 45! — we are done with our share of angpaos for weddings and baby showers.
These days, people around us readily drop dead like limp penises.
We’ve officially entered an era of wakes and right this moment, Stanley the sex bunny, Carl the dense one and I entered officially entered a wake venue at the Singapore Casket.
Carl looked nervous. He never liked going to wakes. Coffins filled with embalmed dead bodies give him the creeps.
Stanley reminded Carl that coffins that are supposed to have embalmed dead bodies but are empty gives him the creeps.
Carl’s eyes widened, betrayed by Stanley who not only did nothing to comfort his wake phobia but added on to it.
That evening, the three of us collectively came to give comfort to Chris Tan, one of our partying friends whom we met in our very early twenties.
Chris’ dad had passed due to nose cancer. The two of them had an early testy relationship with Chris as a closeted (and therefore) rebellious son who acted out at home. As Chris grew older and had wisdom and maturity, he bravely came out to his dad who, to his surprise, didn’t say anything offensive and hugged him.
For a traditional Chinese dad, Chris told us it meant the world to him.
Years later, both father and son’s relationship strengthened even more when cancer came into the older Tan’s life.
I remember seeing emotional posts on IG where Chris would chronicle his life as a son who cared for his dying dad.
That end came for the old Mr Tan two days ago.
Chris broke the news on IG and moments later, Stanley shared it with Carl and me in our group chat.
“Must we see the body” Carl asked us meekly as we rode the lift up to level three of the funeral parlor building.
“In another context, my answer would be yes to seeing bodies but in this case, I’ll say it’s ok not to view it,” Stanley said to Carl, who blew out deep breaths and nodded.
We soon found the room — no bigger than any typical secondary school classroom — and entered it solemnly.
Eight heads belonging to gay boys of various built, from bears to hunks, turned in our direction.
“Good thing I’m in my tailored black shirt,” Stanley whispered, and then puffed out his chest knowing every wake and crisis can be turned into an opportunity.
Carl on the other hand, shrank further from fear of wakes, his python size biceps lying low.
Chris saw us, stood up and walked towards us, his arms reaching for a hug.
I was unsure if we should air kiss him the way we would greet one another when Stanley answered my question with two audible kisses with Chris.
I hugged Chris tightly and said I was sorry for his loss.
Carl reached out for Chris’ hand and gave him a formal politician’s pump.
“What do you think you’re doing? You’re not an a UN convention,” Stanley scolded Carl. “Show that man some love!”
As Chris led us to the alter, Stanley walked the talk and showed the men some love. He made discreet eye contact with all 8 gay men, mentally assessing each of their eligibility and ranking them from partner and one night stand opportunities, to long-term friends with benefits and strictly friends only. Stanley decided that the skinny and balding gay friend of Chris — the one with slightly bulging front teeth — would fit into the category of strictly friends only.
Carl began feeling faint and held on to me for support as we stood in front of old Mr Tan’s portrait.
Stanley nudged me for support, his eyes signaling me to glance at a partner opportunity who’s seated two tables from the coffin.
We took joss sticks, bowed our heads respectfully and set them onto a classy urn.
Carl quietly faded away into the background in case he had to take part in the next step of the process: Viewing Mr Tan’s body.
Stanley, Chris and I made our way to the head of the coffin to complete the ritual.
Mr Tan looked skinnier than his wake portrait. He was sunken, his the suit he wore looked two sizes too big for him.
“Dad these are my very good gay friends from my clubbing days,” Chris said lovingly.
Stanley curtsied by the coffin and said “hello uncle”.
Carl, who watched the entire proceeding from a few tables away, turned pale.
We were soon introduced to Chris’ friends — the highlight of Stanley’s evening, no doubt.
The 8 friends of Chris came from three groups.
His childhood gay gang (not unlike the support group of me, Stanley and Carl), made up of two skinny men who looked like they needed more nutrition in life.
Stanley mentally shelved the two for future use. Not great but not ugly either. They’re my emergency stash, Stanley told me later.
Then there’s Chris’ NS gay friends: Ronson, Jay and Danish.
Stanley was particularly interested in Danish. A half Chinese, half Malay banker who, though slightly shorter than Stanley, has this pair of almond eyes which he absolutely loves.
“This one can,” Stanley said as if he were on a purchasing trip.
The remaining three were Chris’ work friends. One of them looked so pale and skinny that Stanley said he really looked like he belonged at Singapore Casket.
The other two were jolly old men. Both sporting beer bellies with varying degrees of hair loss.
After a round of pleasantries, Stanley held Chris’ hand and asked how he was.
“Like that lah. What to do,” was Chris’ answer. “He’s no longer in pain. And when he was alive, we both spent quality time and lived without regrets.”
Stanley then turned to Danish and held his hand. “And you’re ok?”
Danish smiled politely and looked around for help.
Time at a wake can pass either very quickly or painfully depending on who’s with you.
For Danish, I’m certain he felt every painful moment talking to Stanley who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Meanwhile, the rest of us did what we came here to do: Comfort Chris.
It’s so sobering that at age 45, we’re closer to death more than ever before. And we’ll be even closer as we age.
Chris, who is famous for binge drinking and dancing on bars in his younger days, looked like he’s aged rapidly since his dad died.
“Partying, work, chasing all the material needs no longer matter,” he said with a sigh. “At our age, we all need good health.”
The two oldest gay men nodded enthusiastically.
I agreed with them.
I’ve never once imagined that death would be so close to me.
But as we grow older, it’s a fact we can’t escape.
Just like every wedding inspires some to find love quickly, wakes remind me that our longevity is limited and our time on this earth is not forever.
“So, Danish,” I heard Stanley say quietly. “I hope you’re ok? Do you need some company after this depressing wake?” asked Stanley, who is currently chasing all his material needs with zest.
Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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