Tribute post for my late grandfather: a short memoir

I remember back in my school holidays where we used to visit my dad’s hometown in Yong Peng, Johor; we had 5 hour drives from Ipoh heading southward and I was always admiring the view outside the car window like I never did in my other trips. The journey was never a comforting one with me occasionally getting carsick and losing my meals while dealing with my erratic claustrophobia. My favourite part of the journey, of course, was arriving at the place where we needed to drive down a long and wide straight road before driving past a massive electrical power station where the oil palms and rubber trees at the sides offered much pleasure to my viewing. That being the favourite part, the best part was arriving at the gates of my grandparent’s house and the bliss at the sight of their welcome; at a place where my dad had lived during his childhood years and a reminiscence of it at present; in a small town called Kampung Baru Lam Lee.

Kampung Baru Lam Lee is one of the many small towns in Malaysia called “kampung”, or countryside, and I can’t even find the place on Google Maps. My hometown Ipoh is not particularly a city with busy life such as Kuala Lumpur, but then again nowhere near the “kampung” as described which I can only experience whenever school holidays arrive. Oil palms and rubber trees surround the place and the setting is a breath of fresh air. The sun was almost present every day and it would still be more soothing than overcast days in Ipoh while stars are as clear as tiny glittering crystals in the wonderful night sky. A typical kampung environment. A typical kampung feeling.

I remember having fun around the place, playing football with dad and my brother and some kids in a nearby field and also visiting some cousin’s homes within the vicinity. I remember having fun with cousins that visit my grandparent’s home too, playing with building blocks and whatever we can use as a toy and watching cartoons on a small old fashioned TV. The thing I remembered most, however, was the life of my grandparents during my time at their house. The only thing I knew was education chances were limited back then due to their financial situations and my grandfather worked as a rubber tapper and later a clerk. During my visit he would approach me once in a while and talk to me whenever I was playing or reading or doing something alone. I can’t precisely remember the contents, but mostly he was asking about the things I was doing and what I was reading. In my earlier memories he was very curious man. He would occasionally speak English to me at times, and I would comply. I remember he once said that me and my brother’s English are good, and that he was learning.

During times when he preferred to be alone he would sit down in front of the TV and read the newspaper (or maybe he was doing both) and around dinner time my grandmother would be cooking some of my favourite meals in the kitchen, especially the egg soup which I’ve dearly missed. During dinner time we would chat some more, and in the night time he would sit with my dad outside, beers by their side, staring into the night and chatting away like old school father and son. Like father, like son. I’ve always liked the sight of them sitting outside and chatting. During nights where he did not have conversation sessions with my dad he would retreat to the study table, wearing his gold-rimmed (and again, old fashioned) glasses and writing and cutting newspaper pieces. I had ever really approached him and asked him what he was doing. That was what I probably regret the most, if there was any. But those are what I remembered, those were good times, and that was that.

Routines began changing when I enrolled at college and my subsequent years at university. We are still an itinerant family moving from place to place but Kampung Baru Lam Lee was no longer one of the usual destinations. My parents were getting busy and my brother and I were living the high life in Sunway, a rapid-developing city near Kuala Lumpur. I became more familiar with the city life, going out with friends and doing all sorts of things that a typical person does in his or her university years. I call it “experimenting in life”. I came, I saw, but never really conquered it. I have never genuinely enjoyed city life. There was always a sense of long-term serenity in me. It was only until the final year of my university when I was studying my Honours degree, where I realized I did not visit Lam Lee for a long time. So I kind of cherished the peacefulness of the kampung environment. I remember precisely – three years – the longest period since my last visit.

In the middle of March this year my dad was promoted and stationed in Kuala Lumpur, and my brother and I followed – we are officially city lads. It was also the time when my grandfather’s health was deteriorating. We paid a one-day visit near the end of March. Nostalgia was the only word in the English language to perfectly describe my return to the kampung. Everything was basically the same, the gates, the door, and the surroundings. Only I can really feel the heat this time because of global warming. When I arrived at the house I was expecting to see my grandfather welcoming us like the old times, only this time he was too weak to get out of his bed. I stepped into his room where my uncle helped him to his wheelchair and moved him outside for some fresh air. It was like old times, seeing him sitting and staring outside, admiring the view. Only this time he looked different; he looked old – for the first time I felt like he look old; his legs looked weak and armpits sweating. Despite his condition, he managed to force a smile when he saw us. I can imagine how happy he is when he did. For the first time, I really did. The sad thing was we were just there for a short while. My grandfather didn’t talk much as his voice was weak and his throat was constantly dry, yet he mustered all his might to tell me a few words I have always – always listened, and remembered. After half-an-hour we were in our car again and all set to leave. There my grandfather was, in his wheelchair at the door waving us goodbye with a weak smile as our car pulled away. I waved back, unsure if I smiled back, trying not to think how he felt and all. I was just reminiscing that moment when he smiled, thinking how he happy he was to see us.

My grandfather passed away on the 4^th of April, probably only a week later. I received the news when I was in the car, and of course I didn’t receive it well, even though I probably knew it was coming. Around three days later we returned to Lam Lee to attend his funeral. I don’t need to describe the ambience during that time, of course. I remembered standing in front of his coffin, trying my best to hold back my tears, which I did. I’m not a great believer in deity and all, but I’ve heard people told me about how humans would still be able to feel their surroundings for some time even after death. Nevertheless I didn’t want my grandfather to see or feel me crying. I didn’t attend my grandmother’s funeral when she passed away in 2005 due to my PMR exams (a compulsory exam for third year Malaysian high school students) but I was unable to control my feelings when I visited her grave a year later.

I joined my cousins and other families in the kitchen shortly after. There I stared at the vacant study table where my grandfather once occupied every night, and my brother and I would sit in front watching cartoons on the old fashioned TV. It was then my mother and my cousins told me to have a look at his scrapbooks. Being in an indifferent mood, I simply walked over and occupied the study table. The nostalgic feeling was there again. I remembered sitting there once, my grandfather by my side, talking to me, or perhaps – teaching me about something. I never really cherished the moment. Now I do. Before me there were several scrapbooks having the size similar to a dictionary. I took one, flipped it open and began reading. That was the moment I was astonished. From that moment I remembered not uttering another word for about half-an-hour or so as my eyes were glued to the pages of the scrapbooks. Within the pages were all writings and newspaper cuttings, ranging from world happenings to newspaper English lessons. My grandfather practiced his English by writing every new word that was introduced on a particular lesson followed by its Chinese translation. And on another page it would be news and his thoughts on it, and even writing some new words from the news piece that were probably alien to him at the time.  In one particular scrapbook which was for the year 2012, he made the whole scrapbook as a memoir for his late wife – my grandmother. It was like reading a documentary of his love life, only done in interesting fashion. He made alphabets from newspaper cuttings – one particular page with a picture of my grandmother and the words “she will always be my beloved”. And there was one photo that puts a faint smile to my face – a picture of my grandparents in their young adulthood holding their baby son – my dad. I turned to my dad, and then to the photo again, and smiled to myself again. It was a bittersweet feeling turning the pages of the scrapbooks, knowing my grandfather had been doing this all along when he was on his study table. That’s why he spoke some English to me, or my brother, or perhaps anyone. He was learning. He was always learning. The final scrapbook of his was dated 2013, in which his health already made it difficult for him to even move that much. Yet he probably still kept doing what he loved, reading every day and learning, creating wonderful pieces of scripts that, from my point of view, could be likened to great works of art.

I took those scrapbooks as an inspiration to rediscover my strengths and learn again, a virtue that he has passed down to my family, who are also extremely studious people. I now call them “my grandfather’s life’s work”. By noon the funeral was over, and everything was probably usual again, and we will have to move on. Yet his work has instilled a new fervor in me to stand by his motto: treasure life and do what you love to do, and never stop learning. I will always be remembering the words he told me before I leave his home: 健康很重要 (health is very important), 要好好照顾自己 (take good care of yourself) and 要好好读书 (study well). They probably typical advice coming from older folks, but it was enough for me, because they are words of gold.

As we leave for Kuala Lumpur again I looked once more beyond the gates, at the doorstep where my grandparents used to welcome us. But I didn’t wanna see it that way. I didn’t wanna think that way. I’d like to think of the time when he was there welcoming us with a warm smile and open arms. Just like my last visit when he mustered all his energy to smile and lift his hand, giving me a wave. I’d like to think how happy he was when we reached his doorstep everytime during our visit.

To a man who I never really knew, but whose legacy is a massive influence to me, or perhaps anyone.

I will remember the all the things he told me, even if they are in faint memories.

I will always remember.