I was wrong.
Ah Ma didn't die on the 28th. That's only the day the doctor certified her as being medically and legally deceased.
I think Ah Ma died the day she couldn't open her eyes to see her children and grandchildren around her.
I think she died the day she couldn't hear our voices in her ear.
I think she died the day she couldn't feel us stroking her hand and kissing her face.
Maybe I'm just kidding myself. Maybe I never made it to Ah Ma before she died after all. But I can hope.
Sunday, August 04, 2002
Ah Ma - Part 4 - Scattering the ashes
The ash scattering committee consisted of Dad, Mum, Joanne, Alwyn, Uncle Warren, Auntie Annie and myself. Chrissie had to work. We took a car ride to Port Klang, where we would commit Ah Ma's ashes to the seas. That was what she wanted. She didn't want her ashes to be put in a jar in some temple. She wanted to be be committed to the ocean.
The car ride was long and singularly uneventful (read that as boring).
When we got to Port Klang, it wasn't much to look at. Very crowded. Lots of people all around. Lots of hustle and bustle.
We eventually got some chinese guy to ferry us out a couple of hundred meters to a nice spot where we could scatter Ah Ma's ashes.When we got there, each of us took turns tossing a piece from the strange mixture that was part ashes part bone fragments. We would pick a piece, toss it into the water, and follow it with an orchid. Soon, the sea was awash in a flood of orchids.
I was very quiet the whole boat ride. It felt right that I should be quiet and solemn. This would be the last few minutes that I spent with Ah Ma on a physical level.
The car ride was long and singularly uneventful (read that as boring).
When we got to Port Klang, it wasn't much to look at. Very crowded. Lots of people all around. Lots of hustle and bustle.
We eventually got some chinese guy to ferry us out a couple of hundred meters to a nice spot where we could scatter Ah Ma's ashes.When we got there, each of us took turns tossing a piece from the strange mixture that was part ashes part bone fragments. We would pick a piece, toss it into the water, and follow it with an orchid. Soon, the sea was awash in a flood of orchids.
I was very quiet the whole boat ride. It felt right that I should be quiet and solemn. This would be the last few minutes that I spent with Ah Ma on a physical level.
Ah Ma - Part 3a - One more thing...
I just remembered something.
As I walked past the coffin to pay my last respects to Ah Ma, just before the coffin was lowered into the fire, I pulled out a few strands of hair, and placed them on the coffin. That way, a little bit of me could be with Ah Ma as she left this world.
As I walked past the coffin to pay my last respects to Ah Ma, just before the coffin was lowered into the fire, I pulled out a few strands of hair, and placed them on the coffin. That way, a little bit of me could be with Ah Ma as she left this world.
Ah Ma - Part 3 - Post-Death
Several events come to mind.
Putting on Ah Ma's shoes...
For whatever stupid reason, the guys who were handling the funeral didn't put on Ah Ma's shoes when they laid her in the coffin. So Auntie Annie and I had to open the coffin and do it. I would lift up Ah Ma's leg, and Annie would slowly squeeze the foot into the shoe. Ah Ma's feet were so cold, so stiff...
Pre-cremation...
The cremation itself was a simple, solemn affair. The coffin was laid out, flowers all around. Warren read a simple, short sermon for the dead. Annie gave a very moving (and thankfully very short) piece on Ah Ma's legacy to us. Alwyn tried to say a few words but frankly, I couldn't make head or tail of what he was saying. It would have helped if he wasn't breaking down into tears every 2 words. :)
The actual burning...
You could see the wood slowly turn from a bright red-brown into progressively darker and darker shades. Then it finally turned black. A few minutes later, outside in the crematorium's parking lot, I saw a black column of smoke rising into the skies. Looks like Ah Ma caught her flight to heaven.
I wonder when I actually finally accepted that Ah Ma was dead and that she was never coming back. Maybe it was when I finally saw her resting in her coffin.
Funny... I never wondered if Ah Ma would feel the flames... I guessnot.
Putting on Ah Ma's shoes...
For whatever stupid reason, the guys who were handling the funeral didn't put on Ah Ma's shoes when they laid her in the coffin. So Auntie Annie and I had to open the coffin and do it. I would lift up Ah Ma's leg, and Annie would slowly squeeze the foot into the shoe. Ah Ma's feet were so cold, so stiff...
Pre-cremation...
The cremation itself was a simple, solemn affair. The coffin was laid out, flowers all around. Warren read a simple, short sermon for the dead. Annie gave a very moving (and thankfully very short) piece on Ah Ma's legacy to us. Alwyn tried to say a few words but frankly, I couldn't make head or tail of what he was saying. It would have helped if he wasn't breaking down into tears every 2 words. :)
The actual burning...
You could see the wood slowly turn from a bright red-brown into progressively darker and darker shades. Then it finally turned black. A few minutes later, outside in the crematorium's parking lot, I saw a black column of smoke rising into the skies. Looks like Ah Ma caught her flight to heaven.
I wonder when I actually finally accepted that Ah Ma was dead and that she was never coming back. Maybe it was when I finally saw her resting in her coffin.
Funny... I never wondered if Ah Ma would feel the flames... I guessnot.
Ah Ma - Part 2 - Her spirit departs
On the evening of the 28th, we were going home from dinner when Alwyn called to say that Ah Ma had breathed her last. When I got the call, I felt strangely calm. You know, the same way you feel get a call that your dinner reservation has been confirmed. No big deal. Nothing surprising. Nothing new.
I got to Ah Ma's bedside 15 minutes later.
She didn't look like herself. She was so peaceful. Her face was relaxed and at peace. I can only hope that was how she really felt.
Tears all around. Everyone was in various states of unravelling. Everyone was falling apart. Everyone was trying to cope with grief in their own way.
Dad was sitting on a little swing outside in the garden. He looked numb. When I asked if he was ok, he said he was.
Mum was crying openly and hugging Joanne and myself. It's funny. When Ah Ma was alive, Mum and Ah Ma would always have these great big fights. I guess Mum will have to find a different "sparring partner" for her next title fight. :)
Alwyn was crying quietly and wiping tears from his eyes with one hand while Chrissie (his girlfriend) would hold and pat his other hand. Alwyn was the closest to Ah Ma in her last year. Thank you Alwyn for being there for Ah Ma when I couldn't.
We stayed there for maybe an hour. It was so unreal. I couldn't quite believe she was dead. I half expected her to suddenly sit up. I wished it was all a bad dream.
And through all of this, Ah Ma lay quietly on her bed. Unmoving, but surely moved.
Elvis has left the building...
I got to Ah Ma's bedside 15 minutes later.
She didn't look like herself. She was so peaceful. Her face was relaxed and at peace. I can only hope that was how she really felt.
Tears all around. Everyone was in various states of unravelling. Everyone was falling apart. Everyone was trying to cope with grief in their own way.
Dad was sitting on a little swing outside in the garden. He looked numb. When I asked if he was ok, he said he was.
Mum was crying openly and hugging Joanne and myself. It's funny. When Ah Ma was alive, Mum and Ah Ma would always have these great big fights. I guess Mum will have to find a different "sparring partner" for her next title fight. :)
Alwyn was crying quietly and wiping tears from his eyes with one hand while Chrissie (his girlfriend) would hold and pat his other hand. Alwyn was the closest to Ah Ma in her last year. Thank you Alwyn for being there for Ah Ma when I couldn't.
We stayed there for maybe an hour. It was so unreal. I couldn't quite believe she was dead. I half expected her to suddenly sit up. I wished it was all a bad dream.
And through all of this, Ah Ma lay quietly on her bed. Unmoving, but surely moved.
Elvis has left the building...
Ah Ma - Part 1 - The Bedside Story
On the 28th of July 2002 at 7.40pm Malaysia local time, my grandmother Lui Lan Hee (Ah Ma to us, her grandkids) moved on to more important affairs than that of the flesh.
Yes, I mean that she passed away.
That ends yet another chapter in my life, a chapter that has lasted a whole 28+ years. There'sno more Ah Ma around, and I'll just have to deal with that dose of reality eventually.
On Sunday (21 Jul 02), I got an email from Alwyn (my cousin) at 5am that Ah Ma was in dire straits (my words, not his). By 10am, there were two tickets on SQ waiting for Joanne (my sis) and I for our trip back to Malaysia. I wanted to see Ah Ma before she passed away.
She didn't look like herself. I don't remember her ever lying down quietly. Even in her sleep, she seemed lively and vibrant. Yet, here she was, lying on a bed, eyes closed, occasionally moving her left hand (her right side was paralysed) and shaking her head. She couldn't open her eyes. All she could do was shake her head and twitch her left arm. And even those few gestures, I never knew for sure if they were meaningful gestures or Ah Ma's last frustrated attempts to make her failing body obey her. If the latter, I'm not sure Ah Ma succeeded.
Oh I know that she somehow knew we were there by her bedside. I don't know if she could hear us, or if she could feel us touching her face and holding her hand. But she knew. The biggest sign that she knew was when a tear escaped her closed left eye.
Her one tear. I've since more than matched that one tear with a zillion of my own.
I visited her every day, a couple of times each day. And each time I saw her, it seemed like she was slipping just a little closer to God. Everytime I saw her, I would hold her hand, kiss her forehead, talk to her, tell her that we were going for breakfast/lunch/dinner and that we would be back to see her in a little while. I'll always wonder if she could hear me, if she could understand me, if deep inside, she was smiling at my clumsy attempts at humor.
And everytime I saw her, I alternated between wishing she would die soon and wishing she would get better. Oh I knew she would never recover. But that didn't stop me from wishing it. And yet, I wished she would pass quietly and painlessly rather than drag on for months as a shell that was all but legally dead.
Well, I guess there's nothing more to wish for now.
Yes, I mean that she passed away.
That ends yet another chapter in my life, a chapter that has lasted a whole 28+ years. There'sno more Ah Ma around, and I'll just have to deal with that dose of reality eventually.
On Sunday (21 Jul 02), I got an email from Alwyn (my cousin) at 5am that Ah Ma was in dire straits (my words, not his). By 10am, there were two tickets on SQ waiting for Joanne (my sis) and I for our trip back to Malaysia. I wanted to see Ah Ma before she passed away.
She didn't look like herself. I don't remember her ever lying down quietly. Even in her sleep, she seemed lively and vibrant. Yet, here she was, lying on a bed, eyes closed, occasionally moving her left hand (her right side was paralysed) and shaking her head. She couldn't open her eyes. All she could do was shake her head and twitch her left arm. And even those few gestures, I never knew for sure if they were meaningful gestures or Ah Ma's last frustrated attempts to make her failing body obey her. If the latter, I'm not sure Ah Ma succeeded.
Oh I know that she somehow knew we were there by her bedside. I don't know if she could hear us, or if she could feel us touching her face and holding her hand. But she knew. The biggest sign that she knew was when a tear escaped her closed left eye.
Her one tear. I've since more than matched that one tear with a zillion of my own.
I visited her every day, a couple of times each day. And each time I saw her, it seemed like she was slipping just a little closer to God. Everytime I saw her, I would hold her hand, kiss her forehead, talk to her, tell her that we were going for breakfast/lunch/dinner and that we would be back to see her in a little while. I'll always wonder if she could hear me, if she could understand me, if deep inside, she was smiling at my clumsy attempts at humor.
And everytime I saw her, I alternated between wishing she would die soon and wishing she would get better. Oh I knew she would never recover. But that didn't stop me from wishing it. And yet, I wished she would pass quietly and painlessly rather than drag on for months as a shell that was all but legally dead.
Well, I guess there's nothing more to wish for now.
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