…that we met at the now-defunct Madam Wong’s along Mohamad Sultan Road yonks ago. I did not believe that you were from NUS because you looked like an ah beng. Turns out you were an angmo beng. And was indeed an NUS Economics undergrad.
…how you told me that your name is pronounced as “Ee-varn” but I insisted that it should be “Air-vern”.
…our trip into Johor Bahru where you took me to eat (according to you) the best Ramly burger in JB. We washed it down with a giant glass of sugarcane and spent the night chatting at the roadside stall.
…your really noisy blue Pajero Mini that woke up the entire neighbourhood when you came by to pick me for supper. It was hard to leave the house unnoticed.
…that you love B-grade action films, especially those that involve giant man-eating crocodiles or mutant anacondas.
…your Pincher named Ah Boy who would howl along to your dad’s singing.
…that you were a faithful reader of my original blog and would leave comments regularly. You also started to call me “ene” instead of my real name.
…that you laughed at my love for Jay Chou’s music and would blast Metallica or Led Zeppelin. Despite all that, you were a closet Westlife fan.
…the night before you left for work in Hanoi, you took my gift of a short-sleeved shirt and put it on immediately. You also asked that I snap a picture “so that you can remember the memory”. I still remember the photo taken at the dimly-lit carpark, complete with the fold creases on the shirt and your big grin.
…that you took us to a roadside stall at a random street in Hanoi that served the most wonderful bowl of pho. Till today, it remains the best bowl of pho we’ve tasted. This was also the same trip where we met your lovely girlfriend-now-wife, H.
…how you took me for a quick spin on H’s Vespa in Hanoi because I really wanted to sit on the back of a bike. You introduced your neighbourhood to us and told us that your house-cum-office was haunted. We’re still not sure if you were joking.
…the unmistakable pride in your voice when you introduced your first-born, E, to us. It is amazing to see that he looks just like you, complete with a lovely big smile.
…you telling me that you will be naming your baby daughter, J, because ‘simple names are the best’. And we had a good laugh over MSN about strange names bestowed on babies these days by over-zealous parents. My heart aches that J will never get to meet her Daddy.
…so many wonderful things that we used to do together and it is very disconcerting for me to see your lifeless unsmiling body in the coffin. I still can’t quite believe that you are no longer around and still check your profile on Facebook, thinking that perhaps, you are playing one massive joke on all of us.
I will always remember you, Evan. May you have an endless supply of beer up in Heaven and B-grade movies involving large man-eating crocodiles on repeat mode.