Goodnight, Ah Kong

We are taught to respect our elders. But we often do not realise – until it is too late – that it is our love that they need.

The air was musty with the smell of dusty old rugs. Except for the ticking of an old antique clock on a dresser table nearby, the house was silent.

Leaning against the solid door frame of her grandfather’s room, Erin let out a sigh. Her parents and two siblings were already in bed.

She stepped tentatively into the dimly lit room towards her grandfather’s bed and sat down on the comforter. Slowly, her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and her gaze settled on a plush old armchair.

Ah Kong used to spend his a lot of time in that thickly padded chair – reading and eating home-cooked meals while watching his favourite drama serial, or just chatting with anyone who came in to see him.

She felt a pang of regret and, before she knew it, tears welled in her eyes and lips quivered. Quietly, she whispered: “Ah Kong, I miss you. I’m so sorry I didn’t see you as often as I could”.

With that, warm tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. It had been two years since Ah Kong passed on, yet her heart felt no consolation.

Ah Kong was a lively 80-year-old who could talk the socks off any young upstart, and then some.

He could match anyone story for story, to the point one just had to concede defeat and just keep quiet while he dispensed his pearls of wisdom. His had been a life lived long and fully, and lived the way he saw fit.

The neighbours would be wary at the sight of this octogenarian, with his signature horn-rimmed glasses and a dash of Old Spice, driving to the temple a few kilometres away to fulfil his religious obligations.

There were those days when he would get into a slight fender bender, resulting in uproar among his many offspring and sparking off debate over whether he should even be allowed on the road.
Ah Kong would have none of it, he cherished his independence, his freedom to live by himself. His children and grandchildren were, of course, welcome to visit occasionally.

It was only when he fell ill due to his advancing age that his children decided it was best that he reluctantly moved in with his eldest son and family.

The memory of her Ah Kong pottering around his new home while trying to keep busy brought a smile to Erin’s face. She could still hear him talk as if in a large stadium full of crazy fans and let out a loud guffaw whenever he told one of his own jokes, even if no one understood it.

Her mind drifted in the dim room, recalling the times she would come home late and catch him asleep in his armchair, television on, feet up on a footstool and a warm patchwork blanket across his frail chest.

To the casual observer, it looked like Ah Kong had lived a full and rewarding life. Why then did Erin feel as if he had not?

Shoulders hunched, palms pressed against her closed wet eyes, she uttered as if in prayer: “Ah Kong, maybe I’m being selfish, maybe you did have a wonderful life after all but how could I not have been part of that till the last two years?

“I bet you think we didn’t want you around so you feigned all that ‘I like my freedom’ stuff ... sigh ? maybe it’s just guilt on my part that I did not do more for you or spend time getting to know you better.

“They say ‘respect your elders’ but, Ah Kong, I don’t want to just show respect when I visit your grave, I don’t want to show respect by saying good things after you are dead.

I should have shown respect by getting to know who you are as a person, the one I call Ah Kong, who lived through World War II, who served his country with pride, who had so many buddies at the kopitiam laughing at jokes only they understood.” Hot tears flowed freely into the palm of her hands and trickled down her wrists.

Erin breathed deeply and for a moment in the room filled with stale air, dusty boxes and old rugs, she could smell the familiar fragrance of Old Spice.

Her lips curled upward as she gazed at the Old Spice cologne sitting forlornly on the dresser table with only an antique clock for company.

She chuckled, “Hey, Ah Kong you sure know how to make your presence felt”.

Exhaling as she stood up, Erin reached for the cologne bottle. “You know what, I had only two years to be part of your life as a grandchild and, I hope, as a friend in some way. I just hope you know that you were loved by many, and especially by me. Good night, Ah Kong”.

As quietly as she had entered, Erin walked out leaving the room as it was, save for the fact that the antique clock now sat alone on the dresser table.

The Starmag 17/2