(a working draft of my novel : "Growing Up A Chinese Daughter")
I was just thinking yesterday that I should write about my two grandpas - even though I had already written about them before. And then, I decided, maybe I shouldn't go down that road twice.
It had always been very difficult for me to accept them passing on and then it was also very difficult for me to get over the fact that .... they are only all there is in my memory.
I had been a very blessed child - I knew the absolute love (and a lot of attention!) of a great-grandmother, two grandpas and two grandmas, both my parents and an entire family of uncles and aunties. I used to find it so bizarre when friends told me they only have one grandparent or they didn't have any grandparents, etc.... and it was then, that I knew, I was a lucky, lucky girl indeed! I had a full set of grandparents from both my maternal and paternal side who doted upon me.
When Kung Kung passed away in 1993, it was the school holidays. He had suffered a stroke at the beginning of the year and then later diagnosed with liver cancer. He spent his last days in the hospital. I remembered when his situation took a turn for the worse - my parents had left my brother and I at home. And then they called back asking us to lock up properly and not wait for them as they will not be back. I took it as a very bad sign - and once again - the "adults" thought it inappropriate to keep the "children" informed. After I put down the phone - I thought, this is bullshit! I am going to see Kung Kung - at least one last time!
It was 10.30pm. I turned around and told my brother - who was then 12 years old - "I'm going to call for a taxi and I am going to the hospital to see Kung Kung. Are you coming?" A few seconds of hesitation and then he said yes. And so, I searched my Mom's phone directory (the dirty pink suede-covered one) for the number to the taxi company and within fifteen minutes, the taxi arrived. The taxi driver must've been in quite a dilemma - a tearful girl and a young boy looking glum were getting into his taxi. I told the taxi driver to take us to Tung Shin Hospital. I guess that should explain everything to him. When we arrived, I saw the metre was RM13.70. I pulled out a crumpled piece of RM10 and told the driver that it was all I've got. He said no problem and we got off the taxi.
We went to the reception and asked the nurse for Kung Kung's room. When we got it, we went to the nearest lift and up we went to the room. My parents were in shock to see us. And there, I saw Kung Kung, suffering. Even as I write now, I'm in tears. My beloved, jovial Kung Kung.....
Anyway, the "adults" once again, decided that there was no need for the "children" to stay. My Dad took us home, promising that we'll come back first thing in the morning. That night, I stayed up the whole night and prayed and prayed and prayed. I didn't ask for much. I just asked for a miracle - to take away my Kung Kung's pain and make him healthy again. I never got my wish. And I had never again prayed so hard in my life thus far. And I never made it to the hospital on time to see Kung Kung for the last time.
With Ah Kung, it was totally unexpected. Which made it worse. It was March 2004 - the Formula 1 weekend, as well as the general elections weekend. I was supposed to go cast my vote for the first time ever, and then go to the F1 circuit to watch the race. The phone call came at 5am or close to 6am. Usually, when you get a phone call that early in the morning, it isn't good news. I heard the phone ring and then I sat up on my bed. I had a very bad feeling already. And then, my Dad called me on my cell phone (yes, funny) and asked me to go downstairs. I remember sitting on the second last step of the staircase at home when my Dad told me that Ah Kung had passed away in his sleep.
Oh, I felt my heart breaking. I wanted it to be some idiotically bad joke. But it wasn't. I didn't get to see Ah Kung for even a last time. The last time I saw him was when I went back to the kampung for the weekend and took him out for lunch - which he didn't finish because I accidentally got something spicy for him and he was coughing terribly because of the chilli. And then he didn't want to go out for dinner so I packed dinner for him - which he did finish hungrily. I didn't get to say goodbye. I did say bye-bye, when I left the kampung house, but I took it for granted that I would certainly see him again.
After Ah Kung passed away, I actually went back to the kampung a lot more frequently. In a way, I felt like he was there. I am now occupying his old room. It is now my room. I'm pretty sure Ah Kung would like me to have it.
I'm not one who takes the passing on of loved ones easily. I cannot begin to describe the pain I feel knowing I will no longer be able to see them again. But people always say - "life must go on". Yes, it does. But just as life goes on, so too does all the feelings and emotions. Isn't it? I've even been so afraid of that painful feeling of losing a loved one that I had selfishly made a wish to ensure that I be "gone" before anyone of my loved ones do. Of course, I know all about the making it count while they are all still around. I do. And which is why I practise this simple concept : never go to bed angry with someone you love.
Not wishing to end this piece on a bad note with red eyes, I do remember both Kung Kung and Ah Kung with fond memories. I miss them dearly everyday. And I know that the day I got married - they were up there in heaven saying "Phew.... Finally.....!"
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