It's strange how some people, despite your fleeting interaction with them, leave an overwhelming imprint on your life and make you contemplate your own goals and motivations, just by the things they say and impressions which they convey.

I didn't even see him that often- just three times at the interview panel, a couple occasions during Delta visits, I might've chanced across him perhaps once or so during my month-long internship in June, and finally, one last time, just days before I was to leave to commence studies in Michigan.

I vividly remember the talk he gave that evening- after trooping into the auditorium, the cool air from the air-conditioning a welcome respite from the humidity we'd encountered while marching up the three flights of steps en route from wingline. At that point in time I was undecided and unsure, as I'd be for a long time after- but his address, delivered on the basis of heart and soul, rather than rank or seniority- struck a resonating chord within me. The simple, trusting faith in God, the goodness, the humility, the values of a leader, were overwhelmingly evident as he shared his experiences with the audience. The tab he bore on his sleeve- a representation of loyalty, sacrifice, brotherhood, and ethos- things I wanted to experience for myself, if only for the edification of others. I left that night knowing that I'd entrusted my future to the right place, because the things he spoke of coincided with my desires for the good of myself and what I hoped to achieve for others.

The evening at Stagmont- my mind torn between a thousand possibilities, a myriad of divergent paths that promised varying options at what the next couple of years might hold. I was clear about what I wanted to do, but unsure about how I'd want to go about achieving that outcome. In the midst of my turbulent mental anguish, his eye met mine, and as though having discerned that I was in a state of turmoil, he came over. He didn't give me a solution, because that'd be something only I could decide for myself- but that brief encounter did help me. It reinforced my beliefs, and in the process I gained even more respect for this man, for whom relationships and an honest interest in the wellbeing of others transcended rank, without sacrificing professionalism and responsibility.

I couldn't have foreseen that my final encounter with him would be the last time I'd ever meet him. BL and I were in the conference room, nervously awaiting his entrance, and apprehensive at the very thought of the meeting. When he arrived, however, after the business-like handshakes, he immediately put the two of us at ease- never once doubting our motivations, but gently probing to ascertain that we'd both made the choices that we would stand to benefit from, in the long run. The meeting didn't last long- only about twenty minutes, and at the end of it all he stood up to leave, looked deep into our eyes, perhaps in an implicit conveyor of trust, which underlied his expectations for us, and grasped our hands in a firm handshake, wishing us both the very best in our studies abroad. It was a fleeting moment, indicative of the discipline that was necessary in such an organization; but by no means compromising goodwill and consideration for individual welfare.

So when I received the news early this morning that he had unexpectedly passed away, at the prime of his career and leaving behind two young daughters, I grieved- less for the loss of a brilliant mind or a capable individual, for those are common traits- but, rather, for a man whose deeds and actions depicted his unwavering purpose and faith, and who taught me, by virtue of example, what it really meant to be an officer in the SAF.