A Letter to an Angel
Jun Ni, Ho
Dear Angel,
I remember you telling me that your dream was to become a dentist. As you were describing to me every detail
about dentistry with full excitement, I could see there were tears of joy filling
your eyes. I then knew that studying dentistry was your aspiration all this
time. An accident suddenly struck, you fell from a very high floor of stairs
and injured your spinal cord. You instantly knew you had to give up dentistry for
you would not be able to walk again and move yourself freely up and down dental
engines. Majoring in the field of science was always your preference, hence you
opted pharmacy as a second choice. You showed all of us your perseverance in pursuing
your dreams and future careers.
You were a fighter, you never gave up easily. You made sure you put in
your best effort into sustaining your precious life. You attended wheelchair
workshops to retain mobility after the accident. It was a new life journey for
you as you began everything from zero- a new task and a new challenge. You
learnt patiently on how to control movements using wheelchairs. The process was
arduous, but giving in never appeared in your mind for you knew giving up was
the only way to fail. After a few months’ blood, sweat and tears, you
successfully mastered every skill in managing with wheelchairs. You
participated in events and made new friends. You even attended classes in the
university, where we met and befriended each other.
I was beyond pleased as we became desk mates in class. You never
failed to thank me whenever I helped to carry and bring your desk to you. We shared
our daily life stories when we had free time. You once told me that dancing and
painting were your favourite activities. I could see they were also your
talents. You said you learnt ballet at a very young age and could perform
beautiful ballet dance. I saw your childhood ballet outfit before on Instagram-
you looked exactly like a ballerina, with your tied- up bun, adorable tutu and
pointe shoes. You missed ballet more than anything, and wished you had the
chance to dance again when you recover. Eventually, you took up painting as
your hobby. During the semester holidays or whenever you had free time, you carried
out painting as you adored it very much. You possessed fine skills painting with
watercolour, using both wet and dry techniques. One of your master pieces that
I had seen was amazingly brilliant. You proved to all of us your abundance of
passion in committing to doing things that you dearly loved.
There were a few times when you flipped over and were tossed off your
wheelchair in class. As all of us turned our attention to you, we found you
lying helplessly on the ground, with the entire wheelchair pressed against you.
Immediately, we approached and assisted you into sitting position again. You
noticed our worried and concern faces, so you pulled our leg by telling us you
were as light as a feather and falling down was nothing. The atmosphere turned
less awkward after you got us all gingered up. You always put on your best
smiles in front of everyone; you were gleeful and warm. We barely saw you cry.
There were also several times when you were really exhausted and slept
in class. As you were finally half- awake, you took a glance at the projector
screen, then at me, and always said the same statement, “I am so tired.” I automatically
mouthed back, “Me too.” You then grinned at me and resumed slumbering. Our
classes started at 8 a.m. and ended at 6 p.m. almost every day. Every day was
wearying, yet you were stronger, more independent and diligent than most of us.
You insisted on driving yourself to attend classes, so you drove to campus, no
matter shine or rain. Your car was sent for re-designation, allowing you to
control and move the vehicle safely with only your hands. You taught all of us
your resolution in self- supporting and living in optimism.
You told me that the multiple medications that you took daily to treat
your condition were the dominant culprit which led you to constant drowsiness. At
most time, the side effects were so bad that you could not focus on your
studies and experienced muscle cramps. However, you did not allow these
challenges to become a barrier. You did constant revisions, aced in tests and
examinations, and were awarded the Dean’s List Award for your consistent good
results. You never ceased to learn and ask questions. Sometimes, you even
taught us when we had doubts in studies. You encountered every obstacle with
resilience and compassion, displaying yourself as an ideal student role model
for us all.
One day, we had CNSP (Central Nervous System Pharmacology) class together.
While you and I were discussing the topic about nervous system, you told me
that there was no up-to-date treatment that could make you stand and walk
again. I felt sorry and looked down, not knowing what to say. Instead of me
comforting you, you reassured me that you never gave up on trying out any novel
physiotherapy options, even those with the slightest hope. You said you and
your family found a neurologist in America who was still in the midst of
conducting a research on nerve damage therapy. There was hope for you, and you
were eager to go over to America to receive treatment once the research was
successfully carried out. Meanwhile, you went for consultations and
physiotherapy on a weekly basis. You were finally able to walk again for short
distances after three years of hard work. Everyone was proud of you for you had
shown all of us your determination in standing up and becoming stronger in
life.
Regrettably, a very sad and tragic loss happened last December. We
attended your funeral on that gloomy day. Rain drops were hitting heavily on
the rooftop of the parlour as we arrived and paid our last respect. The sudden
news of your decease was appalling. We did not expect you to leave us so early.
We knew you were extremely tired of everything, we hoped you could rest in
peace now. We would miss you dearly for sure.
My dear angel, I thank you for proving to us that life has no limits.
You have taught us well that determination and perseverance are the key elements
of breaking boundaries of life’s many challenges. This letter is written to pay
you a tribute, for you have been a stoic all this while. Until the day when I
see you again in heaven, I shall remember your story of life and utilize it as
an example for motivating people who lack inspiration.
“It’s been a long day without you, my friend, and I’ll tell you all
about it when I see you again. We’ve come a long way from where we began, oh,
I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again, when I see you again.”
May you rest in peace.
Love,
School of Pharmacy
