My Life...

When Mann, my second brother, passed away a few months back, I only learned about it a few days later when a cousin in KL asked me if I know that Mann had died a few days back! This brought back unpleasant memories for me because I was also not informed of my father's passing twenty-six years back. I was then living in Perth and I only knew of my Father's passing a week later when my aunties called me early one Sunday morning and asked me why I had not come home for my father's funeral, the week before.

To be continued:

After that phone call from my Auntie early that Sunday morning, I tried reaching out to my two brothers and sister to find out what had happened to Bapak. I cannot remember how many phone calls I made, and how many messages I left asking them to get back to me. Nothing. I could not get through to speak to any of my siblings. That was on February 12th 1996.

That is 26 years ago.

Since then, I have not been able to speak to my brothers. My sister Ayoh, I have spoken to and even met her when I was in KL, but she has chosen not to say anything to me. Rahman passed away a few months back.

The only reason I can think of as to why Zainal does not want to speak to me is that he does not want to tell me what he has done with my late father's estate. This is a contentious Islamic inheritance case, possibly involving a criminal aspect. I have been quiet for 26 years.

With the passing of my Father, our Family literally broke up. Maybe the question of money became the catalyst of that breakup, maybe not, but, certainly, for me, the idea that I should go back to KL and try and get what is my due of my father's estate was not reason enough for me to go back to KL and take the matter to court. At least not yet.

If I had learned anything from the lives of my parents, it is this: Family is life.

I met my wife in the early '60s in London. Two weeks after we met, she moved into my flat at Finsbury Park N4, and we have been together until three years back when she passed away after five years of dementia. Married at 21 we have spent our lives in London, Australia and Malaysia - none longer than three years at any one time...until we finally took root in Melbourne. In the process, we had a daughter, Terrina now living in Canada, and Zach who now lives with me.

Lucy, Terrina, and Zach in happier times.

The last conversation I remembered having with my wife was at a café across the road from where I am now living. The onset of Dementia was already taking a toll on her ability to speak, to do things for herself, and the beginning of her irreversible memory loss had already started with a vengeance,

Lucy enjoys having a Cappuccino...she loves the froth, and one of her life's joys was to scoop at it slowly while we talked. At that time, she was already unsteady on her feet because her balance was not that good anymore. We walked hand in hand to the café and I ordered two cappuccinos. After a while, I asked her if she knew that I loved her very much. She looked at me and nodded. I asked her how did she know? She looked again at me and said, "I can see it in your eyes". That was the last real conversation I remember having with her. And then Dementia took over her life.

At the onset, when she was diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia, this is what I remembered most of what was told to me by the doctor. I was told that there is no cure for dementia. She will only get worse. And that was how I learned to live with her dementia - I know that she was not going to get better...and I and my son, prepared for the worse.

I was with her when she drew her last breath...and yet I was not there. The doctor had already told me that she will not survive for more than a few days because of pneumonia she had....and that night, I was sleeping on a chair beside her bed...and at around 4 am...I woke up and reached out to touch her face...and she was quiet. Too quiet. I call out to my son, and together we waited for the doctor to confirm what we already knew....that she was gone from our life.

The finality of losing your life partner is something you deal with, alone. Having my son with me helped, and we were there for each other...more of him being there for me than the other way around.

First, I called my daughter in Canada and told her the sad news. ...and then, somehow, my son and I coped with life. If I have learned anything from the passing of my father, my mother, and my dear wife, it is simply this. Once you have lost your loved ones, you can cope with anything that life throws your way. And I have coped with much since the passing of my dear wife.

https://hussein47hamid.wixsite.com/st47/post/my-life

To be continued