Go to Yishun Dam at daybreak and along the causeway, track your runaway grief then cry a little or not at all.
Yishun Dam is part of the private itinerary of places that I associate with both parts of the bisected landscape of my life: before and after grief. Goodbyes are cumulative. I have known and visited Yishun Dam for over a decade; the barbecues then and now are conducted by different people. These versions of who I was before and who I will become are threaded together when I reencounter this place.
The Yishun Dam is a causeway over a man-made reservoir that is flanked by twin roads. Its consistency in my life has been like a refrain of sorts, loosely connecting the different chapters of my existence. I also envision it as a kind of junction where a time before grief and a time marked by grief are threaded together like the bi-directional traffic.