I left home at about 10am this morning and made my way to Tanjong Pagar MRT station, because I know I had woke up too late and if I go to City Hall there won’t be a place where I can get a good view of Mr Lee’s cortège going by. So Shenton Way near AXA Tower or the MAS Building was the best bet, as it is a non-residential area which is generally empty on weekends. Furthermore, the early birds would have gone to the place where the procession will begin anyway.

I had to do this, because I had not been able to find time over the week to go to Parliament House and pay my respects. It was the least I could do to send off Singapore’s most famous son. It was my last chance to pay my respects.

It started raining almost immediately after I stepped out. That did nothing to help my spirit, and had only caused me to feel even more despondent. I had never considered what are the implications of a post-Lee Kuan Yew era and when I was young and foolish I believe I had even said, “Big deal if he’s gone? The earth will continue to revolve around the sun!”

So what happened between the years? I do not really know. Perhaps, I have finally learn to appreciate my country as it is, or understood why my mother was very appreciative of the achievements of Lee Kuan Yew and the rest of Singapore’s founding fathers.

And so I stood for 2 hours in the rain along Shenton Way across from the MAS Building. The rain subsided for a brief moment, and then it hit us again with full force. I saw umbrellas overturned when strong gusts of wind hit the crowd. It was heartening to see those standing beside extend their umbrellas to provide temporary cover to those who are struggling to set their umbrellas right again. I saw policemen who are on duty drenched all over, while they stoically performed their duties to maintain order and keep the public from the road and traffic. I saw some people got their flag the wrong way, and those on the other side of the road gesturing at them to get it right. I overheard two friends joking about their wet underwears and reminisce about how that had only happened during their NS days, and a mother telling her bored-looking child to enjoy the rain. I saw people look out for each other and apologises when water from their umbrellas drips onto the next person in line. I saw some people shivering in the cold, and yet no one turned to leaave. It was a moment we united as one people, and for a really looooooong time I have not seen such unity. For once, we are just Singaporeans. It was good that there was rain, because I wouldn’t know what to do with the tears that suddenly ran down my cheeks.

Though the logical mind tells me that the rain is nothing but just normal precipitation, I couldn’t help but wondered if the heavens has wept for the passing of the first among our founding fathers, or whether it was a test of our resolved as a people. I heard discussions among the crowd about our first National Day Parade, and how the rain has fallen on the parade that day. The pioneer generation did not run then and neither did we. I felt a little less despondent, and I thought to myself:

“This is the spirit. We will be alright. Singapore will be doing alright.”

For we must, because there is no better way to honor the memory of Mr. Lee Kuan Yew.

At around 1pm, the cortège came and shouts of “Lee Kuan Yew!” and “Thank you” rang out around me. It was all too brief to indicate the passing of an era.

As I watched it disappeared round the corner to Keppel Road, I bid my last farewell to Mr Lee.

Majulah, Singapura!