Wuan and I made a quick trip to Penang last Friday evening. I needed to sign some legal documents pertaining to my apartment. We started our journey at 11pm. I drove all the way to this island that I used to call home. Somewhere at the Rawang Rest and Service Area, I nearly crashed into a barrel that was resting indiscriminately in the middle of the expressway. The barrel was used as a barrier for upgrading works along many stretches of the expressway and was somehow knocked off the side of the road and rolled into the middle.

We reached Penang safely at 4am on Saturday. Slept at 5am. Woke up at 8am. Met lawyer at 11am. Signed the documents and left Penang at around 2pm - not before we went to Macalister Road for 2 boxes of Ghee Hiang’s tau sah pneah. The tau sah pneah are pastry balls with green bean paste filling. Peter, his wife and their grandson hitched a ride with us. They wanted to go to Kajang where Elaine, their daughter, is residing now. We turned into Ipoh town to buy the famous Gunung Rapat beh teh soh - flaky pastry with molasses filling - the best I have eaten so far.

We then had dinner at one of the popular restaurants in Tanjung Malim. The menu was braised tofu with dried shrimps and minced pork gravy, deep-fried pig’s trotter, steamed fish and sitr-fried kangkung sambal belacan. For the price we paid, I would expect the food to taste better. I will not be returning to that place for food anytime soon.

After we dropped Peter and family off at Kajang, we reached home at about 12 midnight. It was one of the most tiring road trips Wuan and I have ever taken. We covered nearly 1,000km in 24 hours. Nevertheless, it was a trip well worth the time because I have accomplished what I was in Penang for - one of the few outstanding issues that I had promised Mum I will clear up shortly before she passed away.

Four years have passed yet the pain remains. Each time thoughts of you filled my mind, I wondered if I had done enough – enough in fulfilling my duty to you as a son; enough in making you comfortable during those final months; enough in easing the agony that cut through your very soul each time the effects of the painkillers wore off.

I blame myself. I blame myself that I did not spend more time with you. I thought you were going to recover. I thought we had more time. I was wrong. Time was never on our side. You left. And life was never the same again.

There were times when I desperately wanted to remember that one moment you said, “Don’t go. Come sit here.”

You were already bedridden then. Tried I did but there is no recollection of what happened. Did I sit by your side? Did we have a conversation? I do not remember. I do not remember. I DO NOT REMEMBER!!! I mourn for that gap in my memory, the one that would have meant a lot to you as it was to me.

Four years have passed. I miss you now as much as I missed you four years ago. Never a day passes without me praying that you are well where you have gone to. May the Lord’s perpetual light shine upon you. Rest in peace Mum. You are truly home now.

The day came and went. I was busy with something else. It had dragged on for so long that waiting a little longer did not matter anymore. The deadline was April 24. I could afford to wait for another week or two. Nevertheless, Harcharan called last Friday evening to tell me that one of the major outstanding matters in Mum’s estate had been resolved. The immensity of it did not hit me until early this morning.

I am glad that one of Mum’s final wishes had been fulfilled. Although this load had been taken off my back, it was one that I was willing to shoulder no matter what. The times that I had failed Mum are innumerable. It is such irony that I am determined to fulfil her wishes only after her death. This was the last instruction that she had entrusted me with before she passed away. The only right thing for me to do is to execute it.

File photo dated July 8, 2006.

Our destination was further up the road from the Church of the Holy Name of Jesus. We had to cross a wooden bridge built over a river fed by streams from the hills surrounding Balik Pulau. Bamboo groves lined the river banks. The only audible sounds were that of the car’s engine, screeching of crickets and gurgling of the river. A constant cool wind blew in through the open window. The silence was eerie yet refreshing.

I knew where we were going. Shortly after the bridge, Dad would turn the car into a narrow earth road up a gentle slope. Like every year for as long as I could remember, he would drive Mum to light candles and lay flowers at the cemetery. Therein lie her father, her grandparents and those from extended families – many ancestors I have never met before or was too young to remember then. In my mind, they were all in black and white, just like the portraits embedded in their tombstones.

For a short period once a year, the drabness of the cemetery bloomed with vibrant colours from orchids, chrysanthemums, anthuriums, gladioluses and carnations. Little white candles that were lighted in the memory of the dearly departed flickered in the gentle breeze. It was practice that I unwittingly observed by virtue of having to tag along on those annual pilgrimages until I became paralysed. Mum continued with the tradition after that.

For the past two years I have lighted candles before the niche where Mum’s ashes were interred on All Souls’ Day and her death anniversary. Those were solemn moments. Since I am not in Penang this year, I am giving it a miss. Nevertheless, I have spent some quiet moments in reflection – thinking about life, death and where my part is in this big scheme of things - praying that I be given the opportunity to touch lives like how Mum did to countless people with her magnanimity.

Penang International Airport - August 12, 2006 ~ 6.58pm.

There was an air of nervous excitement as the plane touched down. Penang seemed foreign. I asked myself what else is left for me here. The good times have become memories. Each time I come back home, an empty and dusty apartment awaits me. I wished for that familiar voice to greet me with that familiar face and that familiar smile. There was only silence.