R.I.P-Michael Jackson

I was watching the memorial service of Michael Jackson on the Internet earlier this evening. I must admit that I was never a Michael Jackson fan, although I enjoyed his music and songs. I always think that he was kinda weird personality both with his looks and lifestyle.

After viewing the star studded event paying tribute to the King of Pop, I could not help but reflect on the fragility and unpredictability of life. The one image that hit me hard was the gold plated coffin that was displayed in front of the stage during the memorial service. It serves as a grim reminder that death does not pick and choose, it comes for everyone, young and old. A man who once stirred the world with his music and songs is gone. Whatever remains behind are only memories and memorabilias. Such is life's inevitable cycle.

Remembering Dad-16th Anniversary

Two Sundays ago, we celebrated Father's Day. The occasion was celebrated in recognition and honour of the love, personal sacrifices and devotion that only a father could give to his family. It was also a day of remembrance of my late dad, who was called home in June 1993. Although 16 long years had passed since his home-going, it seems that it was only yesterday he was there, holding, guiding and mentoring me. There were so many things that I could have said and done for him, but it was never to be.

Dad's home-going was the first real blow that life had dealt with me. Although I experienced the loss of my paternal grandparents and an uncle before that, but this inevitable loss was so personal that, for a long time, I held stubbornly to the grief and ensuing mourning. During the first year of his home-going, I visited his resting place with trepidation as it reminded me of the one great loss of my life.

Dad's absence was sorely felt during our family gatherings and festive occasions. Somehow, our family circle was forever broken and there are only memories for us to fall back on.

The years rolled by. We moved on with our lives but dad was never far away from our thoughts. He still figured in our conversations and we never failed to visit and clean his tomb during the customary tomb sweeping or "Ching Ming" festival. Sometimes, when the tears came dangerously close, I chose to dwell on the happy memories that we shared together instead of the terrible sufferings he had to endure before his death.

Dad was born the fourth of ten children to poor foochow migrants from Ming Xing County, Fujian Province, China. My grandparents immigrated and settled at Sungai Baji, Sarikei, Sarawak in the early 1900's. They eke out a living as rubber tappers and pepper planters. As a young boy, dad survived the tumultuous times during the Japanese Occupation. He was a avid story-teller and would often relate his encounters with the Japanese soldiers whenever he had the opportunity. Although dad's education was interrupted during the war, he nevertheless went on to complete his fifth form. He served first as a temporary teacher, a court interpreter, magistrate and later as a district officer prior to his retirement from civil service in 1992.

My late dad was a man of long suffering and foresight. He sought to live by example and his lifestyle spoke volumes of his humility, foresight and determination to beat the odds. As a parent and father, he was always there for me, during my childhood, teenage years and even in my adult years. Many a times, he taught me to see things around the corner, which I failed to perceive due to my immaturity, inexperience and shortsightness. Inside and outside this door, he did much to shape my thoughts, aspirations and preception of life. Above all, he encouraged me to pursue my tertiary education, despite of the fact that he had to struggle to make ends meet. He was really proud when I was became the first female graduate from both sides of the family. Although, he lived a short 56 years, he was my great inspiration and role model. If he were still around today, I am sure that we would be writing his memoirs. Dad, you are truly great! We miss you.