Last Thursday, one of the industrial engineers at Intel collapsed on the shuttle bus ride back home. He was rushed to the nearest hospital, but tragically passed away that night for reasons that are still unknown to most of us in the company. His name was Tony, and he was a good-looking kid, probably about the same age as myself. I had never actually talked to him, but I saw him around and knew that he had a reputation as a really stand-up, generally nice kind of guy.

I walked into work on Friday without knowing what happened, but I knew something was wrong when I saw our department’s administrative assistant being escorted into her cubicle, looking completely ashen. When I circled back 10 minutes later, there were about four other finance folks huddled around her, and I could hear her violently sobbing. Then, they all walked her back out of the area and presumably into a cab back home.

Later in the afternoon, as the details started passing through hallways through whispered conversations and instant messages, we all soon learned that Tony and our admin had been dating under the radar for three months. She’s a really nice girl, really accomodating, and a few weeks ago I noticed that she had described her mood on MSN messenger as being in a state of “unprecedented bliss.” Knowing now what she was referring to, it makes the memory of her standing there sobbing all the more painful.

I never got to know Tony, but the past three days in my brain I’ve been constantly thinking about how utterly painful this must be for his girlfriend and particularly his family. The century-old Chinese preference for first born sons coupled with the one-child policy makes a sudden death like this a double-dose of grief for the parents. Yesterday morning, I woke up and got online and, perhaps because there’s a voyeuristic part of all of us, checked out our admin’s blog to see if she had written anything in the past 32 hours since she found out her boyfriend passed away. I was met with a torrent of grief in the form of two sorrowful, stream of consciousness journal entries dedicated to her lost boyfriend. Part catalogue of their many “firsts” together, part collection of pleas for him to return, I could not help but appreciate the magnitude of his sudden departure on those who had so much invested in this single life.

Yesterday, Kira organized a massive dinner gathering at Shikumen Bistro because, as she later put it, despite the ubiquitous Christmas decoration and music at all the popular meeting spots, it is exceedingly difficult to encounter genuine Christmas spirit in this town. There were over 70 people gathered on the top floor of the beautiful building on a very frigid December night, but palpable was the warmth of friendship and contentment. I sat at a table with some of my closest friends from Shanghai and even before, making light jokes about bird flu and Tal’s Judaism. Kira came by and pleaded with us to be good sports and to participate in the Christmas carol sing-a-long that was to come. Bing Crosby and other performances of classic Christmas songs played in the background. Mike thought Louis Armstrong’s rendition of “A Christmas Song” was actually Sammy Davis Jr.; this incited Tal to remind us all that Sammy Davis Jr. was a Jew. Mike took the opportunity to pass the buck and told us all that the previous day, Lucy had mentioned that it was Lance Armstrong who first stepped foot onto the moon.

Toward the end of the evening, after standing for the carol-a-long and with the goodness of beer swirling in my stomach, I soaked up the music and the merriment and my thoughts drifted back to Tony, his family, and the young girl who had pleaded so desperately in her journal for him to somehow find his way back to her. In a moment of selfishness, I allowed myself to think: “Damn! I am so lucky.” Surrounded by the kind of joy that should really be accessible more than just a few times a year, I tried to let myself soak in it for as long as possible, to remember the feeling of, though it be precedented, unfettered bliss. The world continues to move forward through life and death, and through grief and love, and yet the poetry that is the comfort of friendship flows throughout the cycles of our memories. Last night, the traditional utterances of gratitude, appreciation, and faith did not fall on these indifferent ears. Damn! I am truly so lucky, to be alive and (relatively) healthy and in the physical and metaphysical presence of all those that I love and who love me in return. Ironically, it took a freezing Christmas gathering in Shanghai for me to feel that true Christmas spirit in a very, very long time.

My heart aches for those that have been lost and those who may be lost because of it; Tony’s passing is a stark reminder to me that the truly precious moments come, but never go. Hopefully, moments of Christmas peace and love, like the one below, live on forever in the right places.


Kira and her man at South Beauty after the Christmas party