It is 6:30am (25th May 2009), here I am penning my thoughts in a MS Word document. As I was burning the midnight oil doing my Systems Analysis & Design (SAD) assignment, I suddenly began to lose focus, my eyes started wandering around like a wild goose. In the short moment of wilderness, my sight fell on a pink family photo album (belongs to Aunt Mimi). I reached for it without much hesitation, it was just what I needed to unwind.
Flipping through it reminds me of how my grandmother looks like. There are so many photos mainly on my grandmother along with my 6 lovely aunts (paternal side). Besides that, it also contains some photos of other family members, my uncles, elder cousins, marriage photos of my father’s 10 brothers and sisters. The one that caught my attention was of course my parents’ marriage photo – my dad was so handsome and stylish, my mum was sooooo beautiful and graceful that I would had fallen for her if someone similar as her appears in my life right now or maybe, in the future.
There are not much good memories in regards of my beloved grandmother. However, the bad ones are rooted pretty deeply in my memories – her funeral. I was only 5 ½ years old when the Imperials of Hell decided to take her away from us (June 1989 to be exact). It was a very grand funeral which lasted for at least 5-7 days. There were sooooo many people who came to pay their last respect which shows her popularity and charisma in the small town of Selama, Perak. Some came from as far as Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Ipoh, and some say JB.
I remember it well even though I was so young at that time. We were all wearing black and sometimes a plain white T-shirt, but it was the official black outfit most of the time. There were so damn many funeral rituals, it was “non-stop” from the first to the final day. The one that stood out most in my memory was the “bridge-crossing ceremony” which lasted for at least 30 minutes late at night. Everyone was required to get in line to cross the custom-made mini-bridge spearheaded by her sons (my uncles and my dad took turns taking the bamboo shoot spearheading our mission to cross the bridge multiple times). As we were crossing the bridge, we were all required to ask my grandmother to cross the bridge. There goes my phrase in Hokkien, “Mama, gue kiu ah!!!” The normal hourly-rituals, early in the morning and evening, were mainly holding our joss sticks chanting holy words for the dead, led by the appointed monks and nuns.
As I said earlier, the funeral was very grand, very traditional and quite lengthy as well. I suspect her coffin was among the costliest you could get in town, the “sai kongs”, monks and nuns appointed to conduct rituals, the amount of chemicals to preserve her body, awnings, lightings, rental for tables and chairs, food and drinks, the paper house (it looks more like a palace to me, fully furnished and tons of servants), paper cars, paper clothes, paper shoes, paper… the list goes on and you name it! Add up all other miscellaneous stuffs and ‘my wild estimation’ it could go up to as high as RM8000 or maybe more! (My parents should know the exact amount but I don’t wanna ask them.) This amount could be tiny nowadays but if you rewind it back to 20 years ago, it was enormous!
The fire near her coffin NEVER goes out, it was always burning 24/7. Everyone took turns to burn joss paper especially midnight till dawn. We must also watch out for black cats. One midnight, when I was staying awake, I saw a black cat approaching my grandmother’s coffin. I shouted, “orh miau!” (black cat in Hokkien) and immediately, a few of my family members chased it out with anger. It was well believed that black cats has the tendency to jump over a dead or coffin which will awake the dead (gosh, that would turn the dead into a “kiongsi” or zombie!). Did I tell you it was “very traditional”? But who would risk it especially on your loved ones?
My dad once told me something which I couldn’t recall about my grandmother. It was during her last moments in Hospital Fatimah, Ipoh, calling me, crying while telling me that she really loves me. I was feeling touched, surprised and guilty when dad told me that. I never knew she loves me that much and feeling very guilty as I couldn’t recall a single moment of that memory.
I’m really sorry grandma, I honestly couldn’t recall that till now… Deep in my heart, I knew you love me and I really love you too. That should be good enough. My only regret is you couldn’t live longer to see so many of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren who were born after you leave us. I’m so sorry I disappoint you if you had high hopes on me, I underachieved all my life. I’m born wild, playful and mischievous and I’m trying to get over it as I age. I’m glad my sister, brother and a few cousins are doing great (although some are not) and on the right track. They deserve more of your love rather than me. Whatever it is, I’m doing my best to get back on track. May you, grandfather and the rest up there bless every single of our family members (including all your sons, daughters, in-laws, grandchildren and great-grandchildren) in whatever they do.
