Long Long time ago
I was never a big fan for biology class. Mostly due to the teacher I had when I was 18. At that time, the punishment that she ever could think of when people failed to hand in assignments on time was to make them copy the sentence I will never hand in my assignment late again for about 500 times. And I thought the school said we were young adults. Apparently we were young adults with ugly handwritings. I went for anatomy class early this morning. Like really early. Like when the cemetry was still pitch back and I had to have my high beam on throughout the drive. Life has never been so adventurous.
The subject of my study happened to be my grand father whom I last saw 20 years ago when they lowered him down to earth. My sis dragged me to the side and went How does it feel to see him 20 years after being the first to discover him dead?
Hey, nice to meet you. It was strangely like a journey back in time. You know, the history which I had conveniently forgotten. I looked at the bones and trying to recall all those times that I had lived with this man whom I should have fondly addressed as Ah Gong (grandfather).
This goes more than 20 years back, pardon me if I don't remember it as exact as it should be and add a little of fairytale and imagination into it. Before I became everybody's favourite person, like I am now, I was once a forgotten, over-achieved, under-recognised grand daughter. I was never the apple of the eye, which my therapist believed was something that haunted me till today and that I deserve to travel in first class all the time in order to allow my little heart to heal. And before I became the low profile, reserved person that I am today, I was an entertainer in my own rights. I loved singing and dancing when I was young. I picked things up at an amazing speed, all I need is to watch the kids' program once and I could start dancing and singing to the right songs. My mum thought I was bloody smart and encouraged me to perform in front of everyone. My father thought that it was better for me to stay low profile. My uncles and aunties thought that I was a show off. My grand father... never acknowledge my talent. I started receiving book prizes from the minister when I was 5, but still, that doesn't mean a thing to Ah Gong. I was never good enough to be his favourite person and I knew when to give up even at that age. I never try again, never bother to.
And because I lived with him, I used to run errands for him, you know, buying food, newspapers and coffee for him. I have to admit that I am not exactly what you would call gifted in my mother tongue Hokkien, and I had problems making out what he was saying and many times ended buying the wrong things. In short, I was like a foreign maid.
My sis was wrong. The most terrifying incident, was not being the first to discover him dead in his bed, rather it was this one night that I witnessed him trying to jump off the building (yes, i know, they were right to say that suicide genes run in the family). I saw how my father managed to grab him and pin him down to the floor just before he jumped off. That scene never leave me. Till today I can still see it. Maybe my therapist was right. Maybe I was really scarred.
Maybe I really need to travel first class.
The subject of my study happened to be my grand father whom I last saw 20 years ago when they lowered him down to earth. My sis dragged me to the side and went How does it feel to see him 20 years after being the first to discover him dead?
Hey, nice to meet you. It was strangely like a journey back in time. You know, the history which I had conveniently forgotten. I looked at the bones and trying to recall all those times that I had lived with this man whom I should have fondly addressed as Ah Gong (grandfather).
This goes more than 20 years back, pardon me if I don't remember it as exact as it should be and add a little of fairytale and imagination into it. Before I became everybody's favourite person, like I am now, I was once a forgotten, over-achieved, under-recognised grand daughter. I was never the apple of the eye, which my therapist believed was something that haunted me till today and that I deserve to travel in first class all the time in order to allow my little heart to heal. And before I became the low profile, reserved person that I am today, I was an entertainer in my own rights. I loved singing and dancing when I was young. I picked things up at an amazing speed, all I need is to watch the kids' program once and I could start dancing and singing to the right songs. My mum thought I was bloody smart and encouraged me to perform in front of everyone. My father thought that it was better for me to stay low profile. My uncles and aunties thought that I was a show off. My grand father... never acknowledge my talent. I started receiving book prizes from the minister when I was 5, but still, that doesn't mean a thing to Ah Gong. I was never good enough to be his favourite person and I knew when to give up even at that age. I never try again, never bother to.
And because I lived with him, I used to run errands for him, you know, buying food, newspapers and coffee for him. I have to admit that I am not exactly what you would call gifted in my mother tongue Hokkien, and I had problems making out what he was saying and many times ended buying the wrong things. In short, I was like a foreign maid.
My sis was wrong. The most terrifying incident, was not being the first to discover him dead in his bed, rather it was this one night that I witnessed him trying to jump off the building (yes, i know, they were right to say that suicide genes run in the family). I saw how my father managed to grab him and pin him down to the floor just before he jumped off. That scene never leave me. Till today I can still see it. Maybe my therapist was right. Maybe I was really scarred.
Maybe I really need to travel first class.
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