Death in the Family

I wrote the piece below last year. I didn't publish it and it's been in my drafts folder since November last year. I have not publish it for obvious reasons and also it was for my own inner peace. Maybe it's time.

Back then when I wrote this piece, I was probably still in mourning over the sudden losses. I did not have have to deal with death in my childhood. When I was very young my great grandfather and grandaunt died. Then I did not lose anyone till I turned 21. Now, it is a tribute to them. To each and everyone who was part of my life and was taken away.

Over the years I've lost people dear to me. I've been fortunate that I've had many of the elder generation leave this world only when I was much older than a child. I lost a grandparent first when I was in my 20s. Now, all I have left is my maternal grandmother. How fragile life is.

I can never forget my 21st birthday. That was the day I was told my friend, school classmate and roommate, Adrian Cheong had gone missing in the Hawaiian sea. Adrian was my classmate in school and in college. He was also my roommate while we attended the latter in Subang Jaya. Now, 11 years later, no one still knows what happened to him and he was never found dead or alive. I have good memories of Adrian. We passed through adolescence and into adulthood together. I remember staying over in his sister, Bernice's apartment, sleeping in the living room. In the middle of the night and in darkness catching a glimpse of Cynthia, his girlfriend (and Bernice's roommate) sailing by in her diaphanous night dress on her way to what I hope was a right good shag. If she was good for anything, at least Cynthia ensured he didn't go a virgin. It would not be a surprise if one day he is found to be on some remote island lording over it and its natives - complete with topless and grass skirted harem. Such was his personality.

My paternal grandmother died on holiday in Italy. She had ostreoperosis and this lead to tragic consequences when she slipped and hit her head on some stairs. One of my earliest memories is of me telling her at a car showroom in Ipoh that maybe the cars (Jaguars and Mercedes) were a little too expensive for my grandfather. How innocent those days were. I had no idea my granddad could have bought anything in that showroom. My paternal grandparents and great grandparents are some of the original landowners (estates, mines and mills) and towkays in Taiping, Perak. Don't bother kidnapping me though. The money didn't make its way to me. My great grandfather was the Charcoal King of Taiping and a founding director of Maybank. I remember him as a tall, dignified man. He stood at six feet. Not bad for a man born in the 1800s. It was colonial times back then and with that in mind, back to my grandmother. I remember my grandma barking orders at the hired help. Especially this little man named Ramasamy. I suppose I feel sorry for him. He got barked at all the time. Well, blame the English and colonial rule. My grandmother should have been a doctor which is no mean feat for a woman in the 1930s. The war cut her education short and ended her medical career before it could begin. She liked culture and art. She loved us but was from an era where it could not be shown. We understood.

My maternal grandfather died shortly after. He was a rascal. A mischievious man with a sense of humour. He also had three (four? I dunno) wives. A fact we children did not discover until much later and didn't take very kindly to. My grandmother was the first wife. Apparently he was a difficult man to live with. I remember the day he alienated his grandchildren from him. He appeared drunk at my parents house yelling at my mother for telling him my sister and I couldn't see him that day. My sister and I had been so sheltered that we couldn't comprehend such behaviour and for many years we shunned him. Perhaps he regretted this the most of all. He loved all his grandchildren intensely and it must have hurt him tremendously. Reap what you sow I believe. My sister's fury lasted much longer than mine. When I was 16 I began cycling to school. I would go past his neighbourhood at about 6:30am when he'd be on his walk. For weeks I must have been just another kid cycling to school in the morning. One day, for no apparent reason, I greeted him and he nearly died of a heart attack on the spot. From then on I would have breakfast with him every other weekend or so. It was the first real contact we'd had in nearly ten years. By then my sister had left Ipoh to atttend college. When she came back during the holidays, she then decided to join us as well. Perhaps this brought a measure of peace to the old man. He died a few years later, a rascal to the end. No one could take care of him so he was put in a nursing home. When he got bored he'd throw his half eaten char siu pau at the guy in the bed beside his. Just to get a reaction out of him. Which was a lot of funny noises as the guy couldn't speak anymore. If you think that's bad, when he didn't have a pau he'd use the contents of his bed pan! Throughout his life, my grandfather loved football. I am the one grandson who shares his passion. My mother and all her siblings are university graduates. I visited him for the last time before I left to study in Australia. He died while I was in Australia. I never saw him again.

My paternal grandfather was a great man. Uneducated but learned, shrewd, intelligent and knowledgeable. Landowner, car distributor, hardware shop owner, stockbroker and I don't know what else. One of the most touching sights I've seen was at this funeral. When his old business partner who was wheelchair bound wanted to kneel in front of his coffin. He was clearly distraught and upset and my father and uncles had to insist that he didn't have to. They told him that him being there was enough and although there is respect, they were friends. They told him my granddad was his friend and would understand. I wish I had more time with my grandfather. I have so many things I want to ask him and talk to him about. He was a mine of information and as I am interested in my family history and Malaysia's history, it would have been good to talk to him. It's too late and it would have been difficult anyway for the suffered a stroke in his last years and it robbed him of clear speech. He was a strict and stern father but a marvelous grandfather (aren't they all?). I miss him. When he passed I was in KL. Busy with a business venture. I had thought of going back to see him but then I thought I'd wait till Chinese New Year. My grandfather passed away a couple of months before Chinese New Year.

My childhood friend's mother was a lawyer. I grew up in her presence. She always teased me about girlfriends until the day I finally introduced her to my first girlfriend. She was like family. She took her own life after giving in to a long battle with depression. I'm still stunned.

Life is but a spark. Fragile. Singular. One light is all one gets.