TIME

TIME by Raymond Weil (clock ticks)

Doing the things you want to do with TIME

Doing the things you want to do with TIME

Just two nights ago, I had to make a presentation speech on either two topics – ‘A Special Achievement’ or ‘Time is Precious than Money’ and from my opening statement, I’m sure you’d be able to tell which topic I settled on and if you’re still guessing, it’s the latter.

In my previous classes, I had spoken about family and even in this topic, I had used my family as a topic of reference for me to speak on time. Whilst I had managed to entertain my classmates with my speech, which I totally found myself going out of topic at times, I came to realised that perhaps I should have talked about something else instead.

Time, for a few of us is just a clock ticking to tell us what’s the next thing on schedule but for a select few of us, Time, is a clock ticking signalling us that we should be spending every second doing things of great meaning to us.

For me, Time is the latter because time lost cannot be earned and this cannot be more true for those who are on death row and is only expecting for the time when the angel would come to take the last breath away.

In this short lifetime of mine, I’ve been priviledged to have understood the value of TIME.

At 15, my first sports mentor died of Leukemia, he was only 16.

He was my senior in primary and secondary school and when he died, he had been fighting to sit for his GCE 0 Levels, which he never managed to. I remember the visit to the hospital where I stared into his pale face as I tried to recall how much energy he used to have playing soccer with me, representing his school as the goalkeeper. He was the tallest as a 12 year old in school and as I type this out now, I can remember the photo of him in the green goalkeeper jersey. And as I spoke to him reminding him to be strong, he responded to me in a stream of tears.

TIME, for him was more precious than any amount of money was in the world and all he wanted to do before he died was to sit for his 0 Levels to make his parents proud, and more importantly, for him to know that he had experienced and survived at least 10 years of education.

The story that I wish to share is one of a person close to me, someone who’s a brother to me.

TIME for him and his mom was everything they could ask for.

They had both been given TIME to prepare for the eventual. 5 years of TIME was what they had together from the day news broke that she had cancer. 5 years on, I was at the hospital bed staring at the tubes attached all over her face, hands and body. Sedated, she couldn’t respond to me with her cheerful smile nor shed a tear for me. So I responded for her, in tears.

It was painful when she was awake but being in pain was the only way she could deal with to spend TIME with her family whom she’d eventually have to leave behind. I remember that day when I received the call, calm and composed came the announcement from my brother but it was me who cried.

I cried because I knew I was on my way to the hospital and couldn’t make it in TIME.

I cried because I was glad that I had managed to be there for him and to see her before her TIME was up.

And during all those TIME, never for once did I hear my brother spoke of how he was going to pay for the medical fees as the sole breadwinner of the house.

In class, I would say that all of us had opted to speak about TIME and such a topic to present about, really is indeed meaningful because you’d be made to reflect on yourself.

And as I type this closing statement of mine, I can hear the sound of the clock ticking and I wonder, what have I done with my TIME today.

Share your thoughts on this post!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s