The Cab Driver’s Wife

I was already running late for my farewell lunch yesterday, so I flagged a cab in the parking lot near our HDB. A few minutes later, the driver started talking to me, asking me where I was from, etc. I’m not really fond of engaging in small talk with strangers, so I answered all his questions shortly and rather crossly. Then he told me that he didn’t know why he had stopped for me as he was actually already on his way home. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said profusely, overcome by guilt. He waved me aside, saying, “No, it’s okay, when it happens, it happens.” Whatever that meant.

I felt as though I owed it to him to be nice, so I engaged him in conversation, starting off with my favorite question to all Singaporeans: “Have you been here all your life?” He said no, and rattled off all the different places he had lived. “So you have a family here?” was my next question. “Yes I do,” he replied. “But my wife has passed away.” Oh no, not another boo-boo. “I am so sorry!” I said again, my second time to say it within 5 minutes. “No, don’t be sorry,” he said, waving me off again. “As my son always says, no matter how much we love her, God loves her more.” Aww. He has a point.

I asked him when she died. He named the year – 1999. It was the year I graduated from High School. Seems so long ago. “Didn’t you ever think of marrying again?” I wondered out loud. He said his kids had been bugging him to do so for 8 years now, but he always waved them aside. I wondered if it was because he loved her still, after all these years. If he still felt like he would be unfaithful if he found someone to replace her. Or if he still felt the pain of her absence.

But I didn’t have the guts to ask those questions, so instead, I said, “Well you don’t look for love. It finds you.” To prove my point, I asked how he met his wife. They were schoolmates. He was a leader, one of the most popular boys in school. Lots of girls were vying for his attention, but he was into books and not women. He attended a cross-training event and collapsed from dehydration. She was the first member of the Red Cross team who rushed to his aid. When other women showed up to help him and to catch his attention, she shyly stepped aside. But her sincerity to help got his attention, so he got her number, and the rest is history.

“What did she die of?” was the next thing I wondered out loud. “That’s the sad thing, they don’t even know,” was his reply. Naturally I had to ask him to explain. He said there were no glaring symptoms of anything majorly wrong with her. She had headaches on some days, or maybe colds, but weren’t they normal? Then on the last day of Ramadhan, as per tradition, she woke him up by pinching his big toe. They went into the kitchen, suddenly she found it hard to breathe. In between gasps of air, she begged for forgiveness, asked him to take care of the kids, to let her go. With tears in their eyes, together they recited some prayers or passages from their scripture, and she died in his arms. Just like that. “How sad!” I said, tears springing to my eyes. It’s one thing to expect to have your loved one leave you, but a completely different thing if they suddenly die without giving you enough time to prepare. =.(

At my stop, he deposited me right infront of Tampopo and got out to open the door for me. I thanked him and said I enjoyed talking to him. He discounted my fare by 90 cents. I guess he needed to tell the story again, too. Ramadhan is next week. It will be 10th anniversary of her death. Now I know the reason why he stopped for me even though he was already on his way home.