The most torturous weeks of my life

The past 3 weeks had been a total nightmare. And, I'm not exaggerating. This absolute nightmare of mine is not solely because of exams, but also due to my grandfather's death.

I was thinking, on the fateful day of the 3rd of May, it was just another ordinary Saturday morning for everyone in my family. My grandfather woke up from bed, and set out with my uncle to his fish factory just like any other day. He drove the Toyota Altis out to the factory, with my uncle in the passenger seat. He walked out of his house, not knowing that it was the last time he will see his wife, children and grandchildren.

In my house, my dad went to work, my mum went to Giant, and I prepared for my music class in the afternoon, just like every other Saturday. Every family member carried out their usual Saturday activities, not knowing the tragedy that was about to hit us.

At around 1545 when I was in my music theory group class in Puchong, the headmaster came into the room and told me that I had to go now. I stared at him blankly. I knew what was going to happen next. I knew instantly that someone in my family must have died. Isn't this the lines people always say in movies or stories when someone died? The headmaster confirmed my suspicions. He informed me that my grandfather had passed away. I continued to stare at him blankly. The room was dead-silent the moment the words came out from his lips. There was a sharp intake of breath around the table, and my classmates looked at me to see how I was taking the news. I heard perfectly well what the headmaster was saying, but I just can't seemed to absorb, comprehend or understand the fact that my grandfather just died. The initial shock was so overwhelming that I was momentarily paralysed. I felt my throat constricted and tears welled up in my eyes. I never lost a family member before until now, not direct family members anyway. I always felt so fortunate that I had 2 complete sets of grandparents. But, not anymore. I thought of my dearly beloved grandfather who took me to parks when I was little, who spoilt me with trips to the malls and various Barbie dolls, my grandfather who fetched me from school everyday and called me "公公婆婆的乖孙" and "掌上明珠". It was only when words of comfort were whispered to me that the tears came flowing out. I was shaking and trembling uncontrollably. My knees felt weak as I went downstairs where my mum awaits me.

At one glance at me, my mum knew that I've mistaken the death of her father, the grandfather which I have a close relationship with. She consoled me and told me that it was actually 阿公 from my dad's side who had passed away, not my beloved 公公. I was relieved that it wasn't 公公 who died, but I felt instantly guilty at my relief. It is not that I'm less sorry that it was 阿公 who passed away, just that we weren't really close from the start, due to lack of communication. He only speaks Hokkein, but it is that language that I despised and refused to learn. We had a mutual understanding, 阿公 and I. He merely grunted in reply when I said, “阿公, 吃饭。” whenever I went back to Sasaran, my hometown in Kuala Selangor. But still, he's a blood-relative of mine. He always rewarded me for every good exam results I achieved. I was so used to his presence in family gatherings or in our kampung house. And suddenly, he was gone. What is that? I mean, really, what is THAT?!

We went home instantly, packed some clothes and drove back to Sasaran, as instructed by Dad. He was still waiting at the hospital to bring 阿公's body back home. Gosh, how awful. 阿公 is now referred to as a body, not a living, breathing human. I've never known my kampung house to be so eerily silent. Normally, the noise of children laughing, screaming and crying annoyed me, but now, it just scared me. I finally understood what "有声胜无声" meant. I doubted the kids are old enough to understand what death means, for even I who am years older than them is struggling hard to comprehend the death of 阿公. However, the kids certainly felt the sullen mood which has infected the house, and they were still and silent, looking at their parents sobbing uncontrollably. Most of my cousins had already arrived, and all of us crammed into one of the rooms, leaving the adults to their 'business'.

Mum later told me that 阿公 died in a car crash on the way back to Sasaran. He did not wear seat belts when driving himself and my uncle back home. A car behind him cut forward so suddenly, that he had to swerve the car to another direction to avoid colliding with that car. Unfortunately, the car swerved, hit a electric post, and skidded into a drain. 阿公 was thrown vigorously in the car, his head hitting twice on the side window, so even air bags could not save him. My uncle was more fortunate, with only minor injuries after the crash.

The realization hits me suddenly when I remembered that I was supposed to sit for mid-year exams on Monday. 阿公's funeral will be held on Thursday morning. I figured that I could only miss 2 days of exams, which would be Wednesday and Thursday. I was fortunate that my family members were understanding. They allowed me to study for my exams, which I did. It was quite torturous, studying in kampung. There was no proper table, and the lights were dim. In addition to the constant smoke, sobbing noises and sounds of gongs, chinese flutes and other instruments with the endless prayers, I was really struggling to study. Crowds of people came to pay their respects to 阿公, which made the house even noisier. Furthermore, it was Sejarah and BM on Monday. It took a great deal of will and determination to not just say, "Oh, sod it! My grandfather just died! I will just flunk my exams!" Instead, I focused my concentration to the Sejarah facts before my eyes, and forced myself to absorb as many facts as I can. However, my study time was interrupted by prayers, which all family members had to attend at the front of the house. Mind you, the prayers were quite long, about approximately for a joss stick to finish burning. My knees were sore from kneeling. Sometimes, however, we were allowed to sit. The prayers went on 4 times a night for 4 consecutive nights, until the day of the funeral. It was only during the brief intervals while the '师父' is resting when I could study. Compared to my silent, comfortable room, with my big study table and armchair, I was rather in a bad environment to study. Well, I kept chanting my mantra, 'Mind over Matter' to myself, and it certainly worked. And, that was how I studied for the nights in kampung.

Around 2330 every night after the last round of prayers, my uncle would fetch my cousins and I back to Subang Jaya and Klang, because most of us will be sitting for exams on the next day. And so, I reached home at about 0100, packed my school bags and slept like a dead pig until 0630 and go to school. This traumatic experience had taught me to stay strong under adversities. I mastered 2 arts, first, the art of mind deception; second, the art of adapting to adverse conditions. With mind deception, no matter how exhausted and heavy my brain felt, I convinced myself that I'm bright and peaky, energetic and alert. It was in that state that I sat for almost all of my exams. After coming back from school, my uncle would once again fetch all of us back to Sasaran, and the cycle of prayers-study-home-exam-Sasaran repeated itself. This cycle continued for 3 weeks, up until I finished resitting for all of my exams. During those 3 weeks, I had no entertainment. We followed the tradition strictly, and we were forbidden to watch TV or play the computer. I found myself running out of plain shirts to wear. No matter now, it's all over. I'm a free person. If I managed to still acheived excellent results this time, I will thank 阿公 gratefully. It will be under his protection that I aced my exams, IF that happenes.