You leave the waiting area by going straight into the departure hall; we leave by another way which returns us to our little pieces of Singapore. With a light and fluttering heart and a sky-splitting smile you will board the airplane, and with a heavy heart we will wait by the windows to see you fly away.
There is a crowd assembled here today to see you go, and I am glad that I’ve been a little part of your life, if nothing significant. I think you’ve touched us in so many ways that you cannot begin to imagine, with your warmth and sincerity; your humour devoid of insult. It it were anyone else leaving it would not have been this way. Thank you for being the one staying up with me until 3am frustratedly slamming away at the keyboard with tired hands, and falling asleep beside a glaring screen. Thank you for being my friend.
Your mother is a brave woman. Some of us are crying but she is smiling to see her daughter go, because she doesn’t see the immediate loss your absence brings as the rest of us do- she sees you coming home to her with a better future locked away.
During our farewell lunch for you someone remarked to another person: ‘I’ll return the money to you next Monday,”, and it struck me that there won’t be a next Monday when you exist in the same time and the same world. Today you leave with excitement etched in your footsteps, and tomorrow our tear-drizzled footprints will be washed away on the clean airport shore.