Dear Diary (13 Apr)

13 Apr 11

Dear Diary,

Today, Ah Gong died. While the rest of the family was gathered at his bedside as he slipped away, there I was, 10,000 miles away, frantically trying to find a way home.

But I didn’t make it in time.

Was still on the way to Heathrow when Sharon told me that he was gone.

My last words to him, in very broken hokkien, was a mixture of “wait for me to come back today”, “please believe in Jesus now, don’t’ delay, there’s no more time”, and “remember I’m getting married this year?” and then I couldn’t say anymore, I didn’t know what else to say. Aunt Carrie sounded distraught enough, telling me in a hurry to speak to Ah Gong because he was passing away, and that was 7.20am in the morning. He finally went his way at 4.15pm. (All London times)

I’m still waiting for the flight, after missing the 1^st one I booked for this afternoon. Can’t seem to do anything. I didn’t bring any book, save the CFA, which I have absolutely no heart to read. I didn’t pack much with me this time, travelling light for once. After all, when it’s a matter of life and death, how much can one carry?

I’m not sure what Ah Gong left behind in material terms. He worked hard all his life, especially in the earlier days. Ah Ma used to tell me the stories of how he would do back-breaking coolie work to feed the family of 5 children. He was always skinny from the time I knew him, his lean fame definitely carrying more muscle than fat. It didn’t take me very many years to overtake him in weight. At his healthiest, he was 45kg at most. The grandparents had a large role to play in bringing Sharon and I up, given how much time we spent with them before and after kindergarten each day (remembering that school only lasted 3 hours then). They gave us breakfast, lunch and dinner, and we used to be at their place everyday. This has now evolved into a Friday night tradition, where the whole family gathers for a meal every Friday night, only missing out in exceptional circumstances. Any attempts to arrive late would be thwarted by his constant phone calls. He must have looked forward so much to having everyone together. Ah Gong’s culinary skills were top-notch, and he used to rule the kitchen, making all kinds of food from sting-ray on freshly plucked banana leaf, crabs, the clams we used to pick from Kranji beach, curry, and the best egg toufu with ketchup dish in the world. But he stopped cooking quite a few years ago. That was when his health started to fail him. He has been in and out of hospital since, and never really recovered fully.

Ah Gong was also very cool. He used to have the funkiest things like tinted glasses, chunky rings and crocs. He had no qualms walking to the market to have a sit down meal alone, where we bumped into him a few times. In his latter years he also had a mobile phone with a very cool ringtone. I also remember him asking me to help him put Ah Ma’s picture on his phone wall, which was very sweet. He didn’t get much education, but he tried to teach us English when we were in kindergarten, copying out months and days of the week from the calendar, practicing with us.

He was also a true adventurer, and really the 1^st one in our family to migrate. Coming to Singapore from the sleepy fishing village of Pulau Ketam was his idea. He came, found work, and went back to bring his family over. Just a few weeks ago, he insisted on making a trip back there, which my parents obliged in taking him. I hear that he endured the whole journey in the car and was truly happy to have made it there. Maybe at that point he knew the battery bar was running low.

The only thing that remains a mystery, and will continually haunt us for the rest of our lifetimes, was whether he was saved. He has heard the Gospel many times, but never wanted to believe, mostly because he was afraid about how the rest of the relatives would view him. Afterall, he used to be the Taoist medium who got into scary trances. Apparently, Uncle Kelvin and Auntie Bee Pheng spoke to him a few days ago, and he nodded twice, when asked twice if he wanted to believe. That is a huge reaction, considering the next day he could only move his eyes. He did try to react by closing his eyes when my mum mentioned Jesus, which could be taken in 2 senses. The whole day today, I prayed that the Lord would be gracious to him and not harden his soul any longer. If he had been snatched from Satan’s grip, even at the jaws of death, then God could take him away into eternity even if I don’t make it home in time. Because I know it would be goodnight, not goodbye. I didn’t make it home, but I’m not sure if it’s a prayer answered. Afterall, who am I that God should listen to me?

I don’t know what to do when I get back, and I’m not sure I’m prepared for what I’m about to witness. But no amount of preparation will prepare one for the final moment. Yet, I can’t wait to be home, to be with the family. It is truly a big family that has gone through thick and thin together. That was one wonderful thing Ah Gong left behind, one that surpasses everything else. I love all of them, and I know we all miss Ah Gong already.

Now get me on that plane; it will be the longest flight of my life but I know at the end of it is a family that grieves together.

Heathrow Airport Terminal 3

London

1929h