I V A N

Ivan. What a simple name. I-V-A-N, just that simple. But behind this ubiquitous name, there live thousands of stories. The headboy in school is called Ivan and he has the best grades; the gardener of Nong Chik Garden is an Ivan, he lost a leg in an accident last month; even the rising engineer of Soft Lab Malaysia is also named Ivan. See? That is just how common the name is.

  Yet, even though it seems common to most, I have to confess that each time I hear it, a tsunami of emotions strikes me. It triggers a feeling of grief from the back of my mind, shoving up an old patch of memory, reminding me of the death of a lovely boy.

  He was Ivan Ronan, young and adorable with that heart-melting little smile and bright blue eyes. He used to be one of the students in the kindergarten I worked in. Born into a loving family, life was simple but perfect for him. He had warm milk to drink every day, plastic toys his father bought for him and enthralling bedtime stories which his mother never forgot to read him every time the clock struck nine at night.

  It was an unbelievable fact, I must admit, but small Ivan had a tumour in his brain which was growing fast. The doctors could not find a clue to the growth of the fatal ball of flesh beneath his skull—the four-year-old’s diet was the healthiest his parents could provide; the environment he had grown up in did not even expose him to much radioactive rays or UV light. It was inconceivable to hear the news. I had thought that it was a joke! A shy little angel who looked like a flawless angel whenever he smiled at you had just turned into a grenade that might explode without any warning. How could all this happen to an innocent soul like Ivan? Was life fair? It was not!

  I still remember when his parents first requested me to give him some tuition at their place. Ivan was so slow in picking up the basics of English, yet he was too timid to clarify his doubts. He was so young and energetic and had the neatest handwriting I had ever seen; even his boyish chuckle captivated me.  But then he was forced to stay in the hospital. His house seemed so deserted of joy, the plastic dinosaurs were not scattered all over the place anymore; the afternoon kids’ shows were not played on TV anymore. Ivan’s parents felt worse, their own son—their loveliest angel had been found suffering from cancer—could you ever imagine the pain that was cast on them?

Ronan Thompson

  Ivan only slept for the rest of his days. He looked calm on the outside but I knew deep down he was in the worst pain a normal child could take. Then on the 31^st of October, it was Halloween. I knew he could be anything his mother’s creativity could come up with, only if he was still able to put those colourful fabrics on. That night saw rain pelting, the kids were supposed to go for ‘Trick or Treat’, but none of them did. The hospital was colder than ever, I was there, Ivan’s parents were there. We witnessed a teardrop on the boy’s wan cheek, and his death was declared.

  The silence in the room was broken with a loud cry of sorrow. Great agony struck everyone who knew the boy. I fell onto my knees with tears blurring my sight. Although I was only Ivan’s teacher at his kindergarten and a home-tutor, I felt like we were closer than anyone could ever expect. He was like a son of my own. I could understand how his mother must have felt. His presence had made me feel like home, he was the best I had ever felt in years.

  Heaven must be blessed with yet another beautiful angel, a cute little one with that Liam Hemsworth’s daydream look in his eyes. Until now whenever the name Ivan was called when I am treading on the streets, it will undoubtedly catch my attention. I only hope that the Ivan Ronan I knew were still here.

By, 

Euan Thum,

Written on 12/2/2015,
Inspired by Taylor Swift's RONAN,
Paying tribute to Ronan Thompson, who died from neuroblastoma in 2011.

Ivan's story is original.