I encountered a bagpipe busker on a
street in Melbourne one day which quickly evoked memories of my visit to
Scotland. I remembered listening to the music of a bagpiper on a street in
Edinburgh. Unlike the one in Melbourne who was dressed in a T-shirt and a pair
of jeans, the one in Edinburgh was kilt in the full regalia of a Scot fusilier.
The lilting music of the bagpipes in Melbourne reminded me a very warm and
generous friend in Elgin who took us all over northern Scotland, from the ski
resort of Cairngorm to the shores of Loch Ness.
As the Melbourne bagpiper began to play a haunting tune, it put me in a sombre and pensive mood. I began to think of the plight and suffering of that friend in Elgin. She suffered greatly and traumatically a few years after our visit, when she had to opt out of work to nurse her husband who had an inoperable brain tumour. He was an RAF ace pilot who had flown sorties during the Falkland War. It must have been a very daunting and heart-wrenching time for her to see her husband suffering terribly and his life slowly ebbing away.
As I walked away from the Melbourne busker, I could not help but feel sad for my friend.
I was like a zombie after encountering the busker as I continued my walk around Melbourne. I did not enjoy the sights at all.
As the Melbourne bagpiper began to play a haunting tune, it put me in a sombre and pensive mood. I began to think of the plight and suffering of that friend in Elgin. She suffered greatly and traumatically a few years after our visit, when she had to opt out of work to nurse her husband who had an inoperable brain tumour. He was an RAF ace pilot who had flown sorties during the Falkland War. It must have been a very daunting and heart-wrenching time for her to see her husband suffering terribly and his life slowly ebbing away.
As I walked away from the Melbourne busker, I could not help but feel sad for my friend.
I was like a zombie after encountering the busker as I continued my walk around Melbourne. I did not enjoy the sights at all.
I felt better after I visited the
cathedral. I experienced tranquility as I sat on a pew thinking of my life. I
began to realize that I am blessed, indeed, to have encountered so many people
in my life from simple fishermen or farmers to high-ranking professionals, diplomats,
politicians or religious leaders who have shown so much kindness to me. My
great regret has been that I have not been able to reciprocate in any way.
ltbs
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
Harriet
Beecher Stowe
