Reflection Part 2

Blogger pal, Dr. Nase and moi had something in common this weekend although we approached the destination from different paths/reasons. Strangely opposed to some other peeps' approach to blogging never-ending negative tales; I never quite liked sharing anything unpleasant in the blogosphere. Please don't get me wrong, it is actually great that they blog their sadder experiences with the hope to share and hopefully educate other bloggers, more so especially to the "virgins" of life experiences. It is just simply ... my preferred approach not to pass on too much gloominess to you guys. My previous blog reflecting this year's events was not something I would wanna repeat too often.

Hence, this post is a cheerier version of my recent reflections, to which goes back to earlier times, prompted by your words of encouragement (for this, please accept my gratitude) plus this morning's nostalgic visit to an eatery frequented since childhood.

Chong Kok Kopitiam, an iconic landmark in my hometown Klang for the past 80 years, has been a favourite haunt for many locals of all races. Many of my happiest childhood memories were spent in this weather-beaten lil' abode of nostalgic delectable "kopi & teh kau", buttered kaya bread and half-boiled eggs. However, it was not so-much the food, but rather, quality time spent with the family that made it memorable.

Funny how the mind works, well, can't speak for all, so I'll say "my weird mind". Reminiscing about the yesteryear's fun times at the kopitiam triggered a flood of other childhood memories, with the most vivid recollections being of the family.

Dad was a stern-looking man. His looks were deceptive though, because under all that tough stances, with stares that would often leave us siblings frozen to a standstill, as opposed to my Mom's less potent screams of "I'll get the cane", he was actually one of the most compassionate and loving father that a child would ever want or wished to have. Mom though, was a fiesty lil' bodied chilli padi who had a robust zest for life and doted on her husband and children with unfailing passion.

Together, they made a wonderful couple and complimented each other well especially when handling us siblings so-much-so that we often lost even before we went to war when it came to asking for special permission, simply because we could never ascertain who was the weaker link for us to get the "yes" answer. The Oedipus theory never applied to my family because they were fair to all. My relatives had always impressed that "moi" was the sunshine of Mom, thus the theory being true as they claimed that I had always gotten her "extra" attention, to which I remembered to have always fiercely defended myself, having remarked that I deserved the reward of additional affection for doing most of the household chores. Yes, I was the one lugging the bags of groceries whenever Mom made her way to the wetmarket on Sunday mornings when my other siblings were still toiling themselves in Snoozeland.

Life then was exceptionally good. My life basically revolved around my family, relatives ( an army of them, since Mom had 19 siblings whilst Dad had 6), school, attending tuitions, music classes, and a "muhibbah" bunch of friends to whom I swam, played hockey, football, tennis and badminton with. Vices were minimal because my parents always believed in educating us children on the consequences of our actions whilst carefully balancing our time for fun and studies ...... in their absence (both parents worked), aided by the educational Muppets (hence, Kermit's song in my playlist) and Sesame Street Shows who were our educators via the idiotbox (pun intended!)

Life was also not meant to always be on a bed of roses too. I remembered my teenage time when my Dad had exhausted the education fund stashed away for us due to the economic crisis the country was going through. Dad, being in the construction industry, took a hard hit when his earnings turned to losses. By then, my two elder brothers have had their chance to complete their tertiary education overseas but were too fresh out of school to contribute to the finances of the family. I was lucky to have been offered local university entrance but the notion of his 3rd son not being granted the same opportunity as his brothers was a huge No No for Dad, who insisted that I go ahead to attend tertiary education to Australia even if it meant that he had to "cough up blood" to obtain the funds required to send me there. Although I had received part scholarship, expenses were still high due to the exchange rate and higher cost of living. I suppose it was also a good lesson as the situation forced me to mature almost overnight, the main huge task of having to juggle between being a student and a worker to help pay my way through the 5 years of education.

Upon reflecting on my childhood years right upto 5 years ago when my father exhaled his last labored breath, I realised that family; my wonderful irreplaceable parents and siblings, was the most important aspect of my life and would continue to be my source of zestful motivation to face life.

In Dad, I had lost a Precious family Holy Book, one laden with individual inscriptions and notes, one encased in a faded binding, one blessed with a timeless vibrancy. Of course , a childlike question does pop up indiscriminately as to why he left us so early. But, the abandoned cub feeling was soothed with the knowledge that I still had my Mommy dearest. Nevermind the intermittent obstacles, the hardship of earning a living, the failed relationships and friendships, I had her to lean on; and that itself was a good reason enough to wake up each and every morning, feeling truly blessed!

I feel Blessed!!!

Thank you Mom, Thank you Dad!!!