They came dressed in black, some clutching white roses, carnations and lilies.

There were mothers who had just picked up their sons and daughters from school, civil servants with their elderly parents and lone executives who had taken an hour off their busy work schedules.

As Singaporeans from all walks of life streamed to the four condolence sites to pay their respects to the late Lee Kuan Yew, one question awaited them at the end of the queues they had patiently joined.

What do you say to the founder and architect of modern Singapore? What can you write, in that minute or two, that can adequately sum up the way you feel?

Many simply said “thank you,” going by the hundreds of little notes penned on white cards at the Istana and Parliament House yesterday.

They thanked Lee for making Singapore what it is today ― a country with safe and secure streets, a clean and green environment, economic prosperity and a stable political system.

In achieving this, he was a great leader destined to be remembered, many added. “Your legacy needs no statues or museums, it is all around us today,” read one card.

Some tributes were written in foreign languages like Japanese and others were signed off by foreign workers, expats and tourists. A few had so much to say that they ran out of space, their words growing desperately smaller as they reached the bottom right-hand corner of the card.

Others were more succinct, like one unsigned card I saw that bore just one elegantly conceived hashtag: “#NO YEW NO US.”

Some of the notes were philosophical, with many simply wishing Lee yi lu hao zou ― a Chinese phrase for “safe journey” ― in the afterlife. A few said they were glad that he was reunited with his wife and love of his life, Kwa Geok Choo, who died in 2010.

Not all the authors of the notes were older Singaporeans who had lived through the Lee Kuan Yew era. Many young students penned tributes, with photo collages depicting Singapore’s success and child-like drawings of flowers and the sun.

Those who were too young to know him or his politics cited those who did.

“My late grandma adores you, sir. R.I.P.” was the one line on a card at Parliament House signed off simply as “Jen.”

Reading it, I could not help but smile. For whether one had known Lee Kuan Yew, or agreed with him, or even liked him seemed immaterial to Singaporeans in the immediate aftermath of the news of his death early yesterday.

I have a long list of Facebook friends who wear political stripes in every color. I’ve come to know that many are unafraid to voice their views, and some are downright strident and combative.

But all put aside their differences to post online tributes to the man yesterday, turning my Facebook news feed into a virtual reunion of old friends that I haven’t heard from in months, even years.

Many penned simple messages thanking him and wishing him peaceful rest. Those who did not have the words posted tribute videos or links to media obituaries extolling his achievements.

“Many today and before us remain divided about the steadfast decisions you have made,” wrote one friend, summing up the view of many. “However, all can see or enjoy the legacy of your decisions. Thank you Mr. Lee, I am proud to share your surname.”

Another friend, whose father was a political dissident arrested and jailed by Lee’s government in the turbulent 1960s, said: “If there is one thing your life taught me, it is that one must sometimes be more unreasonable than the toughest thug in town to make a reasonable dream come true.”

For me, it felt like a rare moment of national unity that I haven’t seen in a long time in Singapore.

For better or for worse, so much of the conversation here in the last decade or so has centered on the deficiencies of this nation, how discontented we have become with the status quo and how hard it is to compromise on every difference of opinion.

It was refreshing to see people count their blessings for once and be openly thankful for being able to “walk down the streets safely with my earphones plugged in, blasting away.”

Or for the “education I received that I’m able to read official letters my English illiterate mother is unable to,” without worrying about what this might say about them or their politics.

It was great to see people here declare they are proud to be Singaporean, yesterday or any other day, and that they “beam with pride when I produce my passport to immigration officers.”

So my biggest takeaway from the day after Lee Kuan Yew died was not that the nation collectively grieved the loss of a great leader, but rather that it appeared ready to face the future united and proud.

And the tribute card that ultimately made me cry was the one that said: “Thank you, Mr. Lee. We will not let anyone knock the country you spent your whole life to build.”

By Ignatius Low

Ignatius Low is the managing editor of the Straits Times. ― Ed.

(The Straits Times/Asia News Network)