“The person we lost will never be forgotten. They will continue to live in our hearts and memories, reminding us of the love and joy they brought into our lives.”
Unknown
LAST week was a sad week for my family. We lost a young male relative in Kanowit to a suspected case of leptospirosis or ‘rat urine disease’.
He fell sick, became unconscious and was rushed from Kanowit Hospital to Sibu Hospital. Harry, 29, never woke up from his coma. He suffered from multiple organ failure and passed away when he was taken off life support.
Because he was a Muslim, he was buried on the day he died.
My family members in Kuching, Bintulu, Tatau, Johor Bahru and Singapore did not attend his funeral but saw pictures of his burial which was shared by another young relative in Kanowit.
However, some of us managed to send some money to his grandmother to cover some of the burial expenses. Thank God for the online banking facilities which allowed us to do so quickly.
Harry was my second cousin’s son. Harry’s parents were divorced when he was a baby so he had stayed with his grandmother practically all his life. Harry’s grandmother, Rita, is my mother’s younger sister. Harry’s father was Rita’s only
son; she had two daughters as well.
As soon as I received news of Harry’s demise from my niece, Bella, in Bintulu, I informed my younger brother, his son, my son, my sisters and my niece, Ah Hong.
“Try to send some money to Aunt Rita in Kanowit,” I told them.
It is customary for Chinese families to give condolence money to a grieving family. It is a tradition which has been practised for a long time. These contributions are called ‘pek kim’ or ‘bai jin’, which translates to ‘white gold’.
Harry died in the morning of June 19. By later afternoon, he was already buried.
By 7 pm that day, my sister in Johor Bahru, Ah Lan, and I had already sent the condolence money through one of Aunt Rita’s granddaughters, Jenab.
Ah Hong, who’s in Singapore, then asked me, “Has anyone called grandmother to give her your condolences? Poor grandmother. She is all alone now. Harry was her favourite grandchild”
“Not yet,” I replied.
I had not spoken to Aunt Rita or met her for ages and I did not know how she would react when I called her. But anyway, I called her daughter, Timah, who happened to be my second cousin, first.
I was glad to discover she had rushed back to Kanowit to be with her grieving mother. With her was her elder son, Ian.
Family members of my late younger aunt, Catherine, were also there to keep my grieving aunt company.
Timah passed the hand phone to her mother after talking to me for a while. Aunt Rita was sad when she talked to me but she did not cry.
She told me that she had not been eating well ever since Harry was hospitalised.
“At the end of every month, Harry would bring me to Sibu. Now, I cannot even go to Kanowit town. How can I live without him?”
Now Harry is gone, Aunt Rita lives alone in the kampung house with Harry’s father, Nasir, who is paralysed but can talk.
“Looks like you have to look after Nasir from now on,” I said to her.
“We will look after each other from now on,” she replied.
I told Aunt Rita to accept Harry’s death as God’s will.
When Ah Hong called her a few hours later, Aunt Rita cried and cried.
Ah Hong also shared with us a photo she took of my aunt with Harry a few years ago.
Harry’s death has, apparently, affected Ah Hong a lot. After all, he was just one year older than her. When she was young, she used to play with him.
On Friday, two days after Harry’s funeral, Ah Hong suddenly sent me an article I wrote for this column on May 27, 2019 entitled ‘Do not fear death, let’s live life well.’
“Do you remember this article?” she asked me.
“No,” I replied.
Memories of what I wrote, however, came flooding back when I read the article again. In it, I talked to a nine-year-old girl about death and the deaths of two younger brothers who died at a young age and how terrified I was of death and anything to do with dead people when I was young.
However, with the passage of time, my fear of death slowly dissipated.
In the article, I also talked about staying in the Sarawak General Hospital after an operation. After the surgery, as I laid in the intensive care unit, I was kept awake the whole night by noises made by nurses and doctors who were rushing around to save some patients’ lives. It made realise the fragility of human lives.
I ended the article by telling readers,” Do not be afraid of death. Live life well. Value your life each and every day.”
Ah Hong told me on Friday that suddenly, she thought of all the people my family had lost over the years. They included my parents, my two younger brothers, my mother’s younger sister and elder brother.
I told Ah Hong that I had been researching stories on rat urine disease since Harry’s death to understand why he
died. It is not known how and where he became infected with the rat urine disease.
“Now, I’m trying to create more happy memories for our family. I think we deserve happiness after all the sufferings,” said Ah Hong.
I told her we have had many happy memories together, thanks to her. Indeed, Ah Hong has been very generous. She has sponsored many family gatherings in Sarawak including a one-night stay in a Sematan resort.
When I thanked her for her generosity, she replied, “After all these years of taking care of us and sacrificing for our family, I hope I can make you happy, auntie.
“Money can be earned back but time cannot. I’m happy when I see all of us gathering like in the old times.”
To Harry, I say, ‘Rest in peace, my dear. You have not died in vain. Your sudden death has once again reminded us of the fragility of human lives and why we must live life well and value it each and every day.
‘Your sudden death has also brought our family members in Kanowit, Kuching, Bintulu, Tatau, Johor Bahru and Singapore much closer.’
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune.
