A Week Of Mourning: Farewell To A Titan

This has been a difficult week as our nation collectively gathered to bid farewell to a giant of a man. Even as people went about their business, one sensed a deep and palpable sorrow in the air.

Tears sprung to my eyes when I saw our Prime Minister, at once a son but also the head of government, being Prime Ministerial and hardly faltering, holding back his emotions when his heart must have been broken. I cried when I watched scenes reflecting Mr Lee’s deep love for his wife. But I didn’t weep for the man. Indeed, I don’t think he would have wanted me to. I think he would say, “That’s life.”

I didn’t cry because I think Mr Lee Kuan Yew lived a long and fruitful life. He had achieved what he wanted to achieve, enjoyed a love of a lifetime, had children and saw them grow up into accomplished persons in their own right, watched Singapore grow under his charge into the thriving global city that it is today, made a difference in the lives of millions of people. Most of all, the man himself said that he had no regrets. I remember being blown away when I came across that fact some years ago. It takes no small measure of a man to look history in the face, acknowledge the missteps made and come away with no regrets.

But I tell you what touched me this week.

It was the amazing efficiency with which the logistics for the long queue that formed to pay respects to Mr Lee Kuan Yew were sorted out. The numbers on the first day were, no doubt precedented. As droves of people made their way down, the opening times for visiting Parliament House were extended twice in quick succession, from 8pm to midnight or the first day, then to 24 hours for the whole 4-day period up till 8pm on Saturday, with transport services extended in tandem. My husband who works in the area mentioned that he saw a long line of people standing in the hot sun when he returned from lunch on Wednesday but when he left the office that same night, white tentages for shelter had been erected for the queue in that short space of time. I felt an incredible sense of pride when he told me this. This is how we do things here in Singapore, where people work quickly, quietly and tirelessly behind the scenes to get things done. As the numbers swelled, the queue was quickly reorganised to the Padang, and again row after row of shelters sprung up for the mourners in line. National servicemen and volunteers alike worked together to ensure that the queues were smooth, making tough decisions to temporarily close the queue when it was necessary to clear a backlog. An astonishing 400,000+ people paid their respects to at Parliament House and there was only 1 person who fainted. There were huge masses of people in line, some of whom stood for more than 8 hours, but there were no stampedes, no incidents, not even any pushing and shoving. This is extraordinary, but this is Singapore.

It was the spontaneous little acts of kindness that sprung up. From establishments handing out free water, to individuals who handed out free food out of their own pockets to people who were standing in line, to the florist (Artisan des Fleurs, my husband’s favourite florist incidentally) that gave away free flowers to any one who wanted to use them to pay their respects to Mr Lee. Singaporeans a cold, heartless, soulless people, you say? Maybe we all haven’t been looking hard enough.  

It was the foreigners that I met while standing in line with my daughter to pay our last respects. I started talking to a gentleman next to me who told me that he had flown in from Brunei that same day for the sole purpose of paying his respects to Mr Lee Kuan Yew, whom he regarded as his hero. It boggled my mind that a citizen of another country who had not the personal debt of gratitude that Singaporeans owed the man would nevertheless be moved to come show him that final respect. 

It was the many heads of state and key representatives from near and far who came to attend his state funeral, and the many anecdotes they shared of the man, many of them personal. New Zealand and India flew their flags at half mast yesterday to as a sign of respect, as did a number of embassies here in Singapore, like those of the US and Russia. It is incredible, if you think about it, and it reflected the stature of the man who had, in many ways, put our tiny island city on the world map. It showed you the deep respect he commanded from far and wide.

It was seeing Mr Chiam See Tong, bent and in a wheelchair yet standing to pay his respects to a man who had been a formidable opponent. Knowing that both their hearts beat for the nation even if they stand ideologically apart.

It was the sea of people who lined the streets yesterday to say a final farewell as the cortege passed by en-route from Parliament House to the funeral service at UCC. We drove down Jalan Bukit Merah before noon on the way to my mother-in-law’s for lunch, and when we first rounded the corner, I gasped, for lining the railing between the two directions of traffic were bouquet after bouquet of flowers. When we first rounded the corner, it stretched as far as the eye could see, easily over 200m. You don’t see them in the footage of the funeral for they were blocked by the people who dashed across into the middle of the road for a better view as the cortege drove by. And yes, the people. Even the heavy rain couldn’t deter the crowds as they waited with umbrellas, yes, but also with flags and flowers in hand. My husband suggested we drive the route to UCC since it was on the way and we were both incredibly moved by the number of people we saw waiting patiently all along the way. “Look closely,” my husband told our children, “for never in your lifetime will you see this again.”

Most of all though, it was the many stories and tributes to Mr Lee Kuan Yew that poured out from all sectors of society. Reading these added to everything that I had already read na known of the man over the years. One who was tough and unyielding, yet with a deep abiding concern for his fellowman and his country at the heart of all his actions. He lived and breathed Singapore with single-minded purpose. No detail was too insignificant as he charted Singapore’s course, from mudflats to metropolis. He was a titan of our time. We will never have another like him.

Mr Lee Kuan Yew, I know you worried that young Singaporeans are soft. That not having faced the hardships of war and unrest, we don’t have that fire in our belly or that tenacity in us to meet the challenges ahead. It is true that my generation and those after me have only known comfort and prosperity. My own children, young though they may be, take overseas holidays for granted and grumble when they don’t get their way. But Sir, the stories we have heard and the experiences we have had over the past week have no doubt left an indelible mark on our national psyche. Just as you built our nation in your lifetime, you have caused us all to reflect on what it means to be a nation by your death. I believe these would guide us as we seek our own path as one people, one nation, one Singapore. Rest well, Sir, for your job is done. And thank you, for everything. In the words of my four-year old who penned this tribute all on her own, “Thank you for making Singapore a better place.“