My Father
I'm gonna write something unusual here: my father.
My late father, to be exact.
He passed on away in February 2016 at the age of 68 due to stroke.
disclaimer : very long post.
disclaimer : very long post.
My father was an asshole.
That's the statement I made for him when I did "The Work by Byron Katie" - to handle my hatred for him - after his death. That indicates how much I haven't been able to fully forgive him even after he turned into ashes.
Friends that grew up with me knows very well that I don't bring up the topic father.
In my conversation, people noticed that I will mention about my mom here and there, but will never bring out the word Father that some may think he no longer exists.
I grew up in poor condition family.
We stayed in a kampung house - cement floor, wooden wall & zinc roofing.
No air-conditioning, no ceiling fans & we will need to walk 10m outside from our house to use a common shared toilet with the other villagers. It's just a basic shithole that we will need to bring own candle if we wish to shit at night. Same goes to shower.
My mom was a Hokkien Mee (the penang prawn noodle) hawker &that's our main source of income. Our house is the only Chinese family in the kampung by the beach. The current location of Penang Port container trading is where I used to play with my friends. The house is now torn down to give way to build the said Penang Port.
The hokkian mee stall opens about 730pm at night at a local market. Mom will spend whole day cooking and preparing. I will have duty to help to buy some groceries and some preparation like removing prawn shell, transporting the pots around etc. When the evening comes, I will have to follow the family to become the assistant i.e waiter, cashier, dish washer.
My father?
He left the family when I was 3 years old, to escape from his debtors. Not the first time tho.
A repeated offence of him. He is addicted to gambling which leads him to have a lot of debts.
When I was 7 years old, he came back to the family with a promise to turn over a new leaf.
But it didn't happen.
When he is around, another problem arises.
Money in the house easily and mysteriously gone missing.
We all knew that it was an act of him, but we never have solid evidence.
I remembered that there was an incident, whereby he is the only human that gone into the room where my mom kept her money gone missing, we tried to logic with him, but he got all fired up, raising his voice and make a scene while continuously denied the act.
Not wanting to create further scenes, the matter was closed.
That's how he get away with things - shouting, making scenes, being defensive, act victimized or play the "I am supposing the man of the house" card.
When I was as young as 8, I started to collect coins and notes as my hobby.
I even manage to find the notes from the 80s where BNM no longer produced anymore as my collection.
At the age of 12, that cheebai fella wanted to run away from his debt again and he have no cash with him to buy tickets and the rest.
So, what did he took?
Yeap! My precious collection!
(face value in total amounting to about RM60-70, which is a big deal in year 1993)
That's my first taste of betrayal, coming from my own father.
That disgraceful act is only one of the many many many money stealing incidents that occurred in the house. Each and every time there was a close call, he would make dramatic tantrum throwing and got away with it for many years.
Sepandai-pandai tupai melompat, akhirnya jatuh ke tanah juga.
During the year after my STPM, while waiting the result to enter university, my mom finally manage to catch him red-handed in the act of stealing moneys that mom kept in her room.
With the intention to knock some sense to his head, my mom decided to pick me, the youngest son, to be the one handling the situation. I believe her intention is for him to realize how shameful the act is.
After much questioning of this and that, my mom said this
Mom : Do you know that this money is being saved so that we can prepare for Leang to go university?
To my horror, and it still lingers in my head very clearly, his reply was
"What is Leang's education has to do with me?"
Those words struck me a lot.
Like real a lot.
It sounded like I am not related to him at all.
It is a very irresponsible statement to be uttered.
It made me feel that I am worthless to him.
After that incident, we decided that he shall be on his own.
We no longer allows him to stay in our house and don't come to our stall.
In economical term, we're on different cost center.
To the community around us, we did not cut off our relationship with him - in which my mother insisted that way.
(in today's context, any lady would have just file for a divorce)
He stayed in a different house - rented a room.
Emotionally, I think that is the day that I "lost" my father.
Though is he physically around, but I no longer associate myself with him.
It felt heavy to mention him.
I wouldn't able to honor the word father to him, as I didn't see any contribution of him to erect a responsibility as a father.
In fact, in any event I need to mention him, I label him as "that old man"
Even so, after being physically kicked out from the house, he wouldn't able to leave his gambling habit.
He would keep gambling his money away. He is addicted.
Fast forward to many years later, about 4 years before his death, somewhere about year 2013, he suffered from stroke.
It started with mild symptoms, where it affects him once in a while.
Later on, his mouth was affected. He wasn't able to speak anymore but mumbling with words.
Other than that, he still able to function like any other human.
At this point, he still goes to gamble.
Then, Parkinson comes in - affecting his hand and legs movement.
He no longer able to survive on his own.
That was when he finally no longer involve in the gambling.
Not that he wants to quit, but physically he unable to do it anymore.
During this period, mom is the only person taking care of him.
Having to manage his daily chores, cleaning him up, change his adult diapers for him and provide him food.
He is relocated back to stay together with mom.
As for myself, I had already relocated to Batu Pahat to pursue my tertiary education and subsequently ended up securing a job in Cyberjaya.
My encounter with him is very little.
On my each homecoming visit, he is probably the least person I would want to meet.
I couldn't been bothered.
In year 2016, I was home for Chinese New Year break. It was a typical CNY celebration.
On the 3rd day, approximately 8am, a timing that is way too early for me to wake up.
In fact, I was at the factory until 4-5 am; The Beer Factory.
Mom called and insisted all of us siblings to come to go back home.
We were all at different respective houses.
Upon reaching the door, there he was, a body laying motionless at the sofa of the living room, in a sitting position and the head is looking at the ceiling.
Mom told us he was having his breakfast, rested himself on the sofa and moments later, he passed away.
While this person's identity is my father, whom just passed away, there wasn't any remorseful feeling at all. All I see, is just a body that no longer possessing any soul.
After assuring all the siblings had came home to see him for one last time, mom said to us : START WORK (the procedures of wake & funeral).
Me and my brother looking at each other, both of us not what to do and I did the most millennial thing.
Google "what to do if a family member found dead of natural cause in our own house".
In short,
1. call hospital/ambulance to medically certify the death.
2. after that, make a police report and wait for the inspector to come to visit - to rule out the foul play.
3. engage the funeral parlor and they will do the rest.
In my phone conversation with the medical person, the person tried to guide and teach me to do CPR.
Without a shot of a doubt, I told that person it is no longer necessary.
I do not see the point of reviving him anymore.
For the next 3 days, we just handled the wake.
Like an employee handling SOP.
Just purely commencing the procedures with not much sense of ownership.
They say during the last day, the last ride when they fully cover up the coffin and starts putting nails in the coffin, is the most emotional moment. I can agree with that statement.
That was the only moment I feel a slight existence of sorrow albeit a very brief one.
If you ask me about my good memory of him, I can only name 2 incidents.
1 is where he urgently sent me to Penang GH from Butterworth (back then mainland side does not have a proper hospital) only to find out I'm on critical infection of my appendicitis that I got immediately sent into OR for immediate surgery.
2nd is that he brought me to my very first fun-fair at the age of 7.
It took me about 18 months later for me to fully forgive him and able to label him as Father again.
It wasn't easy and took a lot of self-discovery, for me to come to this stage.
That part, to be shared other days.
When I was 7 years old, he came back to the family with a promise to turn over a new leaf.
But it didn't happen.
When he is around, another problem arises.
Money in the house easily and mysteriously gone missing.
We all knew that it was an act of him, but we never have solid evidence.
I remembered that there was an incident, whereby he is the only human that gone into the room where my mom kept her money gone missing, we tried to logic with him, but he got all fired up, raising his voice and make a scene while continuously denied the act.
Not wanting to create further scenes, the matter was closed.
That's how he get away with things - shouting, making scenes, being defensive, act victimized or play the "I am supposing the man of the house" card.
When I was as young as 8, I started to collect coins and notes as my hobby.
I even manage to find the notes from the 80s where BNM no longer produced anymore as my collection.
At the age of 12, that cheebai fella wanted to run away from his debt again and he have no cash with him to buy tickets and the rest.
So, what did he took?
Yeap! My precious collection!
(face value in total amounting to about RM60-70, which is a big deal in year 1993)
That's my first taste of betrayal, coming from my own father.
That disgraceful act is only one of the many many many money stealing incidents that occurred in the house. Each and every time there was a close call, he would make dramatic tantrum throwing and got away with it for many years.
Sepandai-pandai tupai melompat, akhirnya jatuh ke tanah juga.
During the year after my STPM, while waiting the result to enter university, my mom finally manage to catch him red-handed in the act of stealing moneys that mom kept in her room.
With the intention to knock some sense to his head, my mom decided to pick me, the youngest son, to be the one handling the situation. I believe her intention is for him to realize how shameful the act is.
After much questioning of this and that, my mom said this
Mom : Do you know that this money is being saved so that we can prepare for Leang to go university?
To my horror, and it still lingers in my head very clearly, his reply was
"What is Leang's education has to do with me?"
Those words struck me a lot.
Like real a lot.
It sounded like I am not related to him at all.
It is a very irresponsible statement to be uttered.
It made me feel that I am worthless to him.
After that incident, we decided that he shall be on his own.
We no longer allows him to stay in our house and don't come to our stall.
In economical term, we're on different cost center.
To the community around us, we did not cut off our relationship with him - in which my mother insisted that way.
(in today's context, any lady would have just file for a divorce)
He stayed in a different house - rented a room.
Emotionally, I think that is the day that I "lost" my father.
Though is he physically around, but I no longer associate myself with him.
It felt heavy to mention him.
I wouldn't able to honor the word father to him, as I didn't see any contribution of him to erect a responsibility as a father.
In fact, in any event I need to mention him, I label him as "that old man"
Even so, after being physically kicked out from the house, he wouldn't able to leave his gambling habit.
He would keep gambling his money away. He is addicted.
Fast forward to many years later, about 4 years before his death, somewhere about year 2013, he suffered from stroke.
It started with mild symptoms, where it affects him once in a while.
Later on, his mouth was affected. He wasn't able to speak anymore but mumbling with words.
Other than that, he still able to function like any other human.
At this point, he still goes to gamble.
Then, Parkinson comes in - affecting his hand and legs movement.
He no longer able to survive on his own.
That was when he finally no longer involve in the gambling.
Not that he wants to quit, but physically he unable to do it anymore.
Having to manage his daily chores, cleaning him up, change his adult diapers for him and provide him food.
He is relocated back to stay together with mom.
As for myself, I had already relocated to Batu Pahat to pursue my tertiary education and subsequently ended up securing a job in Cyberjaya.
My encounter with him is very little.
On my each homecoming visit, he is probably the least person I would want to meet.
I couldn't been bothered.
In year 2016, I was home for Chinese New Year break. It was a typical CNY celebration.
On the 3rd day, approximately 8am, a timing that is way too early for me to wake up.
In fact, I was at the factory until 4-5 am; The Beer Factory.
Mom called and insisted all of us siblings to come to go back home.
We were all at different respective houses.
Upon reaching the door, there he was, a body laying motionless at the sofa of the living room, in a sitting position and the head is looking at the ceiling.
Mom told us he was having his breakfast, rested himself on the sofa and moments later, he passed away.
While this person's identity is my father, whom just passed away, there wasn't any remorseful feeling at all. All I see, is just a body that no longer possessing any soul.
After assuring all the siblings had came home to see him for one last time, mom said to us : START WORK (the procedures of wake & funeral).
Me and my brother looking at each other, both of us not what to do and I did the most millennial thing.
Google "what to do if a family member found dead of natural cause in our own house".
In short,
1. call hospital/ambulance to medically certify the death.
2. after that, make a police report and wait for the inspector to come to visit - to rule out the foul play.
3. engage the funeral parlor and they will do the rest.
In my phone conversation with the medical person, the person tried to guide and teach me to do CPR.
Without a shot of a doubt, I told that person it is no longer necessary.
I do not see the point of reviving him anymore.
For the next 3 days, we just handled the wake.
Like an employee handling SOP.
Just purely commencing the procedures with not much sense of ownership.
They say during the last day, the last ride when they fully cover up the coffin and starts putting nails in the coffin, is the most emotional moment. I can agree with that statement.
That was the only moment I feel a slight existence of sorrow albeit a very brief one.
If you ask me about my good memory of him, I can only name 2 incidents.
1 is where he urgently sent me to Penang GH from Butterworth (back then mainland side does not have a proper hospital) only to find out I'm on critical infection of my appendicitis that I got immediately sent into OR for immediate surgery.
2nd is that he brought me to my very first fun-fair at the age of 7.
It took me about 18 months later for me to fully forgive him and able to label him as Father again.
It wasn't easy and took a lot of self-discovery, for me to come to this stage.
That part, to be shared other days.
 |
| The last photo we took of him before he got immobilized |
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