Amos

Amos has been on my mind since I talked about him on Monday. Got a ride back from Changi from Joshua and happened to ask him whether he had ever visited the Changi Chapel. And that led to how I had gone there and of course it was because of Amos.

It's been so many years.But still whenever Amos comes to mind, I feel a sadness that lingers. A sense of deep loss. He wasn't outstanding as a student, but he taught me how to make peace with death.

What made me write to him when I saw in the papers that he was sentenced to death for drug possession? I don't really know. I think it was the memory of his smiling face, the way he shushed the class so I could teach. He was such a big help to me in my rookie year in JI when I was struggling to make the transition from teaching in a junior college to teaching in a centralised institute.Would I have ever succeeded in conducting a proper lesson if not for him? I don't know. It was also because of the memory of him standing with all the basketball boys, getting scolded for something he did not do, but getting scolded anyway because he had to stand by his friends.And then smiling at me to show he had no hard feelings.

That was the Amos I remembered and that was the Amos he was to me until the end. I used to wait for his letter so anxiously because I never knew when he would stop writing. And the most precious letter of all was the one where he wrote to say he had accepted Christ. He subsequently decided to be baptised a Catholic but it is enough to know that he found God. My final visit to Changi to see him, the funeral, his sister's visit to give me back my letters and the book he left me - all sepia memories now.

But yes, he taught me how to die. He taught me that when you have made peace with God, you can let go with dignity. He taught me that family and friends matter. And he taught me that no matter what choices a human being makes, you shouldn't give up on him.