Miss her like crazy

Coping with the grief of losing a close friend, one year later.

IT was an ordinary Sunday, like any other.

Yours truly was sending my dog Chai Chai to the pet groomer, when the familiar strains of Miss You Like Crazy came on the car radio.

“I miss you like crazy, I miss you like crazy. Ever since you went away, every hour of every day,” crooned Natalie Cole. The 1989 ballad – in which the late singer describes how she longs for the one she misses “like crazy” ( or, in other words, very much) – struck a chord.

Its lyrics made me think of Reena Gurbaksh, a close friend and colleague who died from a heart attack last year. I turned to look at my wrist; I was wearing one of the ( many) bracelets she had bought as a gift for me.

So it’s no surprise that I was all teary as I entered the pet shop with Chai Chai. I must have made quite a sight and startled the groomer, based on her expression.

That Sunday, I was reminded, yet again, how grief can hit you at the most unexpected times. ( Four years after my dad’s death, the most mundane thing – like his favourite food – makes me think of him. And that man LOVED to eat.)

To quote author Vicki Harrison: “Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and some- times it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”

Well, it’s fairly obvious I’m still learning to swim.

Because I am a writer by profession, one of the ways I express my feelings is through words. Hence, I volunteered to write this month’s Touche, which incidentally is a couple of days after the first anniversary of Reena’s demise.

( Reena served at The Star from 1992 to 2010, at which point she left to be a stay- at- home mum to her two children. She rejoined the company in 2014 as deputy editor for our fortnightly pullout Life Inspired. I still have a picture of the both of us together, on her first day at work. I was grinning from ear to ear, so happy I was to welcome her back.)

As her death was sudden and unexpected, it broke the hearts of those who knew her well. A tribute piece (“Remembering Reena”, Star2, Aug 30, 2015) was quickly put together. As Reena was so wellloved, there were numerous people – bosses, colleagues, friends and industry folk – who wanted to share their memory of her.

Reading through the farewell snippets as they poured in, every single one made my heart ache more. Working through a fog of tears that week was the hardest thing I had to do.

Fashion designer Datuk Zang Toi, who’s based in New York, was one of the first to e- mail me: “I am saddened by her sudden passing ... I will always remember Reena’s beautiful, kind smile.”

Freelance photographer Bonnie Yap, who is as tough as they come, crumpled. “I haven’t been able to stop crying,” she mused. “She loved to call me Bon Bon. I miss her voice so much.”

Via Whatsapp, Reena’s best friend Jacqueline Pereira said, simply but enough: “I feel a part of me is gone, forever.”

As for my own tribute, I wrote: “She was a ravishing beauty, and I always teased her, saying she looked like a Bollywood star. But it was her kindness that made her one of the loveliest people I know.

“There was one particularly low point when I needed a listening ear, and she was there for me. I regret never thanking her enough. So, thank you, Reena, for having blessed my life with your presence.”

If Reena’s death has taught me one thing, it is to cherish your loved ones. I am now more expressive when it comes to telling my friends and family that I love them, to the point that it can border on irritating.

This Aug 31, Jackie is organising a gathering for Reena’s closest friends. No doubt, we’re going to cry and laugh as we share memories of our angel.

Reena was not just a colleague; she was a friend, confidant, lunch partner, shopping buddy ... a member of the family.

And yes, I will continue to miss her like crazy.

Touché is a monthly column in which Team Star2 shares its thoughts.