It was a sunny day and back then I was only 11 years old. I still remember I started my day in my primary school with energy and optimism, hoping that the rest of the day would be fine. Back then, I was a prefect and I had alot of good friends. It was recess time when I was visited by my parents and Eloise. Eloise was in afternoon session and somehow she skipped her school, made me wondered why. Their appearance was out of my expectation. Eloise was only 9 years old and when she stepped forward, she brought a news that nearly made my heart stopped.
Eloise:" Gor, Popo passed away this morning"
Me: (Paused)....What? How????"
Eloise:"It was an accident...car accident"
I could not believe the news that killed my mood and made the twist of the day. Popo is my maternal grandmother. I looked into my mother's eyes and she was silence. Deep in my heart, I wanted to cry but I kept to myself, I went over to the office to tell the teachers and staffs that I would be taking leave for the next few days. They sympathized on my loss and granted my leave. I packed my stuffs and we were to go back to Sitiawan to pay the last respect. I had tearful eyes before I entered the car. Once I sat in the back seat, I began to cry out loud. Popo was a very kind and great grandmother. Every Chinese New Year, I would be longing to visit her. We then picked up Kay and Yen. Both could not take the news well and all broke down. On our way to Sitiawan, the atmosphere was moody and blue. Only musics from the radio heard and we did not speak in the 1 and a half hour journey. When we reached to the wooden house in Sitiawan, all other relatives had already reached and all were grieving. When my mother opened the car door, she quickly knelt on the stony ground and slowly, knelt into the house....crying at the same time, calling for my grandmother. It is a custom in Chinese that if the deceased is in the house, his/her descendants must kneel into the house. My mother could not stop crying and we saw popo was lying on a wooden bed in the house, facing the main door. Next to her, was the basin and white cloth with blood stains. Popo was covered with white cloth. Lying there was an old lady whom I always called Popo and who had been smiling to me all the times. The memories with her never fade. Uncles and aunts were surrounding my popo and all were crying. Seeing them cried, made us cry even louder. I heard that grandfather passed out after he heard of popo's sudden departure. When we were gathering around popo, a car stopped in front of the house and my grandfather who just gained his conscious in the hospital, walked weakly towards his beloved wife. On his face, I could see that he was devastated. We all were...That day was very very hard on us.
During our stay there, we heard how popo really died. It was a norm for her to cycle every morning to the market to buy routine-needed things. Since, the Dumpling or Duan Wu Festival was around the corner, she bought all the ingredients needed to make dumplings except for one, the dried shrimps. Every year, she would make delicious dumplings for her children and grandchildren. Normally, she would depart at 6:45am but that very morning, she departed early, 15 minutes earlier. She cycled towards the market and when she was about to cross the road, she saw a jeep from far. She had vision problem and she thought the jeep was very far so she crossed the road. Never did she know that the jeep was very near to her. The driver could not press the brake pedal and hit on her. She rolled over the jeep and her face smashed the back mirror. The golden tooth that she had fell off and the neck bone was fractured. The bicycle was a piece of useless metal. The smashed glass scattered on the road and the sound of hitting alarmed neighbours nearby. My grandfather's sister stayed nearby too and she knew my popo was hit. She quickly called my uncle and without delay, my uncle rushed to the scene where he saw his mother was lying on the ground. He gained all his strength to lift his mother to his car and sent her to the hospital. Some smashed glass cut his arms and entered the wounds which caused him to have further treatments. Everything was late, the impact was huge and my popo slipped away.
Listening to how popo died really made my heart broke. It was so hard and cruel to know how ur relative died and to think where were we when all these happened. How i wish i could turn back time to prevent this from happening. The funeral procession was held in 3 days and my popo was lying in a wooden coffin. The neighbours and relatives came to pay their last respect while we, as her descendants mourned for her death. Grandfather kept blaming himself for her death and this made the atmosphere even more blue. HOWEVER, i must emphasized that some distant relatives were PLAYING MAHJONG. I was so angry but an 11 year-old child could not do anything. How stupid and idiot these fellows and I am ashamed to have blood relation with them, even little. They were being disrespectful and no manners! My mother refused to eat even though my uncle and aunt persuaded her to eat a little. I knew how she felt, she had been very close to popo when she was a child. My popo also loves her very much, we can see that. My mother could not stop crying during the funeral processions and when she calmed down, I could see her eyes were swollen and she stared aimlessly on the ground. It was a great loss to her, popo is her mother. On the third day, we were to bury her on the hill along with other maternal ancestors. We made our way to the hill and when her coffin was laid into the hole, I could not believe that she was gone.
After her burial, the daughters of the deceased were supposed to leave the house and if they were to come back, they have to bring a basket of fruits. What a weird custom...My mother wanted to go back to Ipoh so on the third day, we headed back to Ipoh since all 4 of us skipped school for 3 days. My mother did not show her grief in front of us but we knew she was deeply saddened by popo's death. That very night, she dreamed of popo. She told us that popo cycled to our house and stopped in front of our house. Sometimes, when my mother was sewing clothes, she thought of popo and will sob silently in the morning. On the other hand, I broke down many times when I thought of popo and her departure was deeply felt because she was the first close relative to depart in my life. I remember the grief that I bore. The driver who killed her was set free. The incident was considered as an accident by the local magistrate and the driver was not charged with murder. His driving license was revoked. Despite freeing from murder charge, the driver himself could not bear the guilt of causing death to an old lady. He went to my grandfather's house, knelt before my grandfather and asked for forgiveness. He broke down due to guilt and grandfather forgave him. Popo greatly influenced my life. Now, whenever I see old ladies in their 60s and above, either them be cycling or walking, I will think of popo and I really wanna reach out helping hands so that I can restore them safely to their family. However, I din do so for fear that these folks will think me as a lunatic person and reject my help. My heart will softens and I sympathize old people when I see them...I told myself that I will not let my parents to walk alone when they are old, I dowan them to end up like these old people...Popo had been sacrificing her life to raise her children and took care of my grandfather for years. Grandfather was very ill in the past few decades and she took care of him with care and love. After her death, grandfather was taken care of by my uncle and his wife. I remember popo's smile, her small eyes, her curly hair, her kindness, her chubby figure and her tendency to fall asleep. All the time, popo would fall asleep when she was talking to us or when she was watching TV. She loved to snore when she slept and she was afraid of heat, she would have two fans in her room and made a hole on the wall so that the cool air of air-conditioner in the next room would flow into hers. She loved to take nap but whenever my mother went back, she would stay awake and talked to my mother until the wee hours together with my grandfather. She brewed delicious salty pork leg too and she made the best Milo in the world. I have never drank such a fine Milo before, really tasty and I could never taste it again in my life. Her skills in cooking were passed down to my mother and my aunts. I love her and my mother's cooking. My memories with her still fresh in my mind and she is the best grandmother in the world. I love her the way my mother loves her. She is my maternal grandmother, my Popo and will always be. There was once I dreamed of her, she told me that she was working in the afterlife and when I told my mother, she was pleased to know that her mother adapted her afterlife and worked to support her life there. That was the last dream I had about her. I really wish that she is now somewhere in the afterlife, very happy with the rest of the ancestors. It is now the 10th year of her death's anniversary. She will always be remembered for the motherly figure she gave to all her descendants. I love you, popo. Im sure we can meet again one day.
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