From me to you

Por por,

Its funny how we only start to appreciate and realize what we have lost after you've departed. I know you have played a wake up call to us in terms of the apprecation of family members and people dearest to us while our blood are still running through our veins, our minds still conscious, our presence still felt amongst ourselves. Although some of us may only be awoken for awhile and revert back to our old neglectful selves, it is a valuble wake up call in terms of my experience an self improvement.

I'm sorry por por, for i have neglected you and your existence. I have never really cared much when you were still walking those flight of stairs mumbling to yourself about how hot the weather was those days, and falling asleep in front of the television with your mouth gaping wide, truth be told, everytime you fell asleep like that, i'd check to see if your chest was still rising and collapsing, still breathing because i had feared you might one day leave us without warning. I'd forgo visiting you for other events or merely just remain home to be with my computer or the television, with the ignorance in my mind assuring me that you have still have another decade or more of being with us because of the status of your health thats always excellent, even during your dying days, i've only visited you once among those 12 days when your condition detiorated. I can still remember me and my dad walking through the sliding doors of the ICU ward to see you lying on your bed with the respirator or breathing aid fastened around your mouth, you could talk then, you told dad how you felt pains in your abdominals and you aknowledged me with a nod, i knew you would've smiled at me if you could. Even as me and dad left, you could manage a that little wave to send us out. Small as it seems, it was the last i saw you as a living, breathing, person. Shame on me for assuming that the operations would all go well although it did and you would be well on your way to recovering and recuperating, only then had i decided to visit you again, citing reasons that i was busy even though i knew i had ample time to just come see you to let you know i care so much for you. I didn't show that care, even when i thought i could, I didn't, once again i was ignorant that you might, you just might leave us anyday soon.

Mum told all of us that you were scared of what was coming in the last few days, i felt for you, i felt that fear as well, probably because you have never visited the hospital in the past 80 odd years but the fear i felt was probably the fear you felt in your quiet heart. I remembered i could make out the racy, fearful voice of yours when you told dad about your abdominal pains while i was beside him. You reduced me to tears when i heard that you finally accepted and prepared yourself for that long journey quietly although everyone knew, you held on, suffered on a little for that one last child of yours, 5th aunty to be back from singapore before you finally let go of the material world. You know por por, i've said it before, but i feel contented for you, i feel contented that before you left us, you managed to personally see all 15 of your children. All 5 boys, all 10 girls, the children you gave birth to, you gave life to, the children you brought up all your life, despite the difficulties, the death of your husband, the hardship of raising 15 children with different age gaps yet they all bond so closely together. Thats is your success, as a mother. It is where people look up to you, people salute and respect you, of all the pain and suffering of childbirth to the final fruit of having 15 wonderful children at the end of your day. You also succeeded as a person. More than anyone who could earn millions.

There were so many things that you have done for the benefit of others, including your own funeral, you blessed us with magnifient weather and the swift and smooth going of the funeral. There weren't any problems at all, in fact, to be honest, it didn't feel as though you had gone, the way the funeral brought everyone together, all your grandsons and grandaughters, everyone along your ancestral line, family friends, it didn't feel like you were gone at all, it felt just like every other new year. Gathered in your big blue house in malacca where most of us cousins and the generation ahead of us grew up in. I swear i could still catch a glimpse of you walking around the whole family from the corner of my eye. Its amazing how you brought us together during your days and you managed to bring us all together again like old times after you passed. There's a certain feel to it.

Honestly, i felt so thankful when i found out that your funeral was a buddhist one. Frankly i was expecting the taoist funeral where the chinese operas would be playing and we would have to obey countless superstitions. The thing about your funeral, is the serenity of it. The chanting, the talks given by the monks about life and death, most of all, the buddhist hymn singing at every end of a chanting session. Everyone chants along with the little puja book in hand, everyone stands up and bows 3 times to you in mark of respect, everyone stands up and sings their hearts out to buddhist hymns. A funeral fit for a calm and noble woman like you.

Por por, i was afraid, i was afraid to see you lying there, under the silk, behind the glass, with a pearl on your lips. I'm not used to seeing an empty shell, a carrier with no mind, a stagnant body. Until i saw you, lying there, under the silk, behind the glass, with a pearl perched in the middle of your lips. I hardly could've recognize you, the formalin injected made you look like a wax figurine, your eyebrows have been tampered, and at times, the dry ice would create too much moisture and leave little droplets of water on your face. But beneath all the beautification work, i know lies a woman beautiful on her own, without enhancements. I swear if i stared long and hard enough i could make out a little faint smile on your face. Everyone came by, and everyone said you looked very peaceful, which i think signifies the way you left, in peace. The first time i saw you, i was captivated, at first i was worried, i was afraid of what you might look like, but after that first glance, i wasn't afraid anymore, my initial thoughts were banished, i couldn't get enough of looking at you. Even to the point when the coffin had to be sealed, i would promise myself one last look of you only to break it after a few minutes. When the coffin sealed shut only the reality shot to me that i will never ever see you as a person again. I felt so devastated, after you left, it was at that moment the thoughts came rushing, little over 3 weeks ago, i saw you, you were still moving, you were still laughing, you were still as energetic and alive as ever. Now, you're sealed in a coffin, making your way to the hearse. The only image of your walk, your laugh, your everything when i could still feel you and talk to you and call you por por is merely just a thought playbacking in my mind.

Sometimes i pray that you'd just wake up in the midst of everything and it would just be a case of mistaken death or probably be the first person to hibernate or anything but its just so helpless to think that you're gone. You made me loathe myself for depriving my time with you. I remember we used to tease you among ourselves saying you look like a mafia boss in those dark shades. Those days are gone, they aren't coming back.

As i stood on the mounds of earth beside your grave, with a bunch of pretty flowers clasp in my hands. I stared at your coffin. Lain at 6 feet under, in a brick cavity. As the monk and everyone present there, 3 busloads, all recited our final prayers, i couldn't stop staring at your coffin, the thoughts again rushing through my head, how i spent time with you, how i'd hug you long time ago everytime we left malacca for kl, you'd give me and my sisters 50 dollars each, again and always, the way you laugh. It sticks with me, when i'm asked to reflect a happy thought about you, i'd think of your laugh, time to time again, i'd think of your laugh and i'd miss it so badly.

Then i threw the bunch of roses and chrysenthemum into your new resting place. I knelt down, picked up a palmful of earth and scattered it down into your grave.

"I'll see you in the next life por por."

We lost you, thats our karma. You left us in peace for a better life, that's your karma. It wasn't only you who passed away, the family and all its traditions passed away along with you.

And now i'm starting feel the vortex, the emptiness of your departure. I know i could never bring myself to tell you this during your days, which is funny why everything only comes out after its all too late.

I love you and i miss you por por. As a grandmother and as a matriach figure not only to me but to everyone in your family, my family.

The last goodnight. I know i'll see you again.

Jinny