For Sandra Wong, 21st November 1988 - 14th January 2010
My darling Sandra.
Today's the 20th of January. It's been six days, and I have yet to come to terms with the fact that you're gone. The sound of it, the way it rolls off my tongue, I cannot comprehend it. I cannot say the words, and believe them.
Sandra's accident. Sandra's body. Sandra's funeral.
The concept of those words are so foreign to me, I can't understand them. I can't accept it, because it feels so strange, like it's not real. I've been walking in a world of nightmares these past six days, because everywhere I look, everywhere I turn, something feels wrong. I don't feel good.
Something is missing.
You are missing.
I keep thinking of beautiful words to say to you, but I know you'll hear them long before my brain computes them properly. I miss you. Everything reminds me of you.
I jump on the bus and all I can think of is how I used to see you walk past my car in your umbrella on your way home after class.
I put on makeup in the morning and all I can remember is you telling me that we'll definitely be going for the L'Oreal Warehouse sale again next year.
I listen to Sink or Swim by Tyrone Wells, and I'm reminded of how you pointed out that you liked that song in my car.
I can't even think of sushi without thinking of how hard we were laughing that one night in Sushi King.
Sandra, I miss you. You were just so... bright, and you were genuine. You saw the world for all its good, and the bad stuff just bounced off you. You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, inside and out.
This is not goodbye. Not yet, not now. You live on in spirit and in my memories, and I know you'll drop by from time to time to let me know that, wherever you are, you're still thinking about us.
Just as I'll think of you, every day. Thank you for granting me this great honour.
Thank you for being my friend, for being our Sandra.
Much love,
Emmy
Today's the 20th of January. It's been six days, and I have yet to come to terms with the fact that you're gone. The sound of it, the way it rolls off my tongue, I cannot comprehend it. I cannot say the words, and believe them.
Sandra's accident. Sandra's body. Sandra's funeral.
The concept of those words are so foreign to me, I can't understand them. I can't accept it, because it feels so strange, like it's not real. I've been walking in a world of nightmares these past six days, because everywhere I look, everywhere I turn, something feels wrong. I don't feel good.
Something is missing.
You are missing.
I keep thinking of beautiful words to say to you, but I know you'll hear them long before my brain computes them properly. I miss you. Everything reminds me of you.
I jump on the bus and all I can think of is how I used to see you walk past my car in your umbrella on your way home after class.
I put on makeup in the morning and all I can remember is you telling me that we'll definitely be going for the L'Oreal Warehouse sale again next year.
I listen to Sink or Swim by Tyrone Wells, and I'm reminded of how you pointed out that you liked that song in my car.
I can't even think of sushi without thinking of how hard we were laughing that one night in Sushi King.
Sandra, I miss you. You were just so... bright, and you were genuine. You saw the world for all its good, and the bad stuff just bounced off you. You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, inside and out.
This is not goodbye. Not yet, not now. You live on in spirit and in my memories, and I know you'll drop by from time to time to let me know that, wherever you are, you're still thinking about us.
Just as I'll think of you, every day. Thank you for granting me this great honour.
Thank you for being my friend, for being our Sandra.
Much love,
Emmy