echo In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now,
I love you more than you’ll wrap your head now,
In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth,
I’m everything that I am because of you.
–In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt
If there was anything more precious to her in the entire expanse of the universe, to Jing En, it was family.
That didn’t apply to everyone though; after all, people don’t get to choose the situation they’re born into. Family could be blood-related, but that didn’t mean they truly knew and understood each other.
But family came in different shapes and sizes, its dynamics and environment as many as the stars that hung in the deep night sky. Not every family was perfect, each with their own set of problems and quirks.
Jing En was no stranger to that, knowing the complexities of family dynamics. Loving reunions, the occasional screaming matches and unspoken gestures of either affection or animosity. A whole array of emotions and feelings.
The world didn’t come crashing down then, but something buried in her was aching in her chest. The news wasn’t surprising, but the nuance and underlying context was painful in a way.
“Your Ah Kong…”
“Yes, I know,” she murmured, feeling the tears prickling behind her eyes. “I know.”
Her mum had a look of sadness and something deeper behind it on her face, Jing En wasn’t sure what it exactly meant.
“It’ll be all right, okay?”
Swallowing a shaky breath of air, the words came hesitant out of her mouth. “Are you sure?”
It hung in the air, still and quiet. The slightest pause and the glass could shatter onto the floor without a care. “It’ll be okay.”
Jing En really hoped that would be the case.
—
“Hi, Ah Kong.”
Her grandfather, Ah Kong, looked at her. His gaze on her before fixing on something else.
Was that recognition in his eyes? Did he know who she was? She couldn’t tell.
Her grandfather lowered himself into the armchair beside her, heaving a sigh as he did so.
White hair that was combed neatly, hands that bore years and years of time and tending to people. He was thinner too, wrinkles on his skin marked his aging.
When had he gotten so old?
“Ah Kong, how are you today?”
A pause before he spoke. “Oh… you know,” he started. The words came slowly, carefully processing each word. “I…”
It wasn’t always like this. Her Ah Kong was a great man, the first of his siblings to travel the world, to go out and make a good career for himself. In some words, he was brilliant.
“We brought tau sar peah, the ones from Ipoh.”
Long ago, a distinct memory of her mum bringing over the biscuits had sparked some heated words that she should have bought the better ones, from Penang. Jing En shook that memory away, not letting it flood her head.
After many attempts of small talk and chatter of other relatives, it was time to leave. Jing En could tell her mum was ready to go, her absent-minded tapping and glances to the door gave it away. In total honesty, she wanted to leave too. Seeing her grandfather in this state, realising he was never going to be well enough again was gnawing at her conscience, ringing in her brain and refusing to let go.
“Bye, Ah Kong. We’ll come and see you tomorrow, okay?”
Jing En tried to smile, but she was sure it could be seen right through.
After waving goodbye and exiting the room, Jing En glanced towards her grandfather. Ah Kong slumped in his chair, like a man who was so weary and lost, inexplicably sad. She hated to see him like this.
“He seems fine,” she quietly muttered to her mum as they walked down the corridor, weaving their way through staff to reach the main entrance. “Physically, I mean.”
“Maybe these days have been good for him.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I hope it stays that way for a long time.”
—
If she was completely honest with herself, Jing En couldn’t really remember the earlier memories. The harsher and more turbulent ones were more recent in comparison, although she knew how unfair that was.
Learning how to cycle around the park with his hand to guide her was a strong one, but it felt so distant. The moments where they ate weekly Wednesday dinners also felt far away, like it was a dream that came to her occasionally.
Sometimes, she was angry at herself for pointing out the negativity instead of the joyful and more positive parts of the relationship. What was the point of holding onto terrible upsetting memories when others were more important?
“You don’t understand.” She still remembered what was said, however hurtful it was. “He needs it more than you.” To this day, the discussion of the will was more vivid in her memories than she liked to admit.
“But the inheritance should be equal! Why can’t it be like that? It’s so simple!”
“He has three kids and you have your husband to—”
“Ming Jun earns in dollars! He won’t have to pay that much for his kids’ university! Why don’t my kids deserve the same opportunities? Just because we’re—”
“No. You have your husband’s family for support.”
“It isn’t so simple. Don’t you understand? You—”
She shut the door then, digging her nails into her palms as she took another shaky breath. That was enough. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
Words cut and stung, but it was only in that moment, right?
Unfortunately, as painful as it was, those were one of the last heated discussions before things had all changed. What followed was angry-sounding phone calls, frustration lifted into the air. It was never mediated or made peace with, the thought of it never occurred until recent changes.
—
Back in the old house, Jing En and her mum decided to take the opportunity to clean and tidy up the place. Easier said than done, because there were just too many things in the house. Shelves of never-ending books, cutlery and cookware enough to supply four households, trophies from her uncles’ high school achievements.
Trying not to inhale dust and whatever else that built up on years of not being cleaned, somehow or rather, they stumbled on an old projector, the type where slides would be placed and pulled to operate. Fascinating, really.
“He was such an avid photographer, can you believe it?” her mum laughed, a wistful grin on her face. Reminiscence of those times bubbling to the surface.
“See, that’s your uncle Ming Hong.” Her mum pointed to the small boy squinting at the camera before tracing over the younger girl. “And that’s me.”
Jing En went over the photo, studying it carefully. Snow had fallen, covering every single inch of the ground with its white blanket. Tall trees with bare branches stood solemnly in the background.
This was when her Ah Kong had the opportunity of a lifetime to work in Norway for a year or two, and with all fingers crossed, he moved his family with him over there for the entire duration. Of course, when one’s in Europe and Scandinavia, travelling was a no-brainer. When else would one wander and experience what the world had to offer?
“Both of you aren’t smiling,” she finally said. Uncle Ming Hong had a look of displeasure across his face, lips in a tight line.
“It was cold!” her mum retorted. That was true, both children were bundled in warm layers and puffy jackets. “What would you expect from kids born in the tropics?”
“Still,” Jing En shrugged her shoulders, “I thought you two should be ecstatic since you’re in Norway and playing around in snow.”
“That’s what your Uncle Ming Jie said.”
A simpler time back then, a single moment forever captured in the slide. Tons of Norwegian flags in the background, blocks of fancy-looking architecture and the stunning streets were impressive.
“Look, I’ve found one of Ah Kong.”
Jing En peered over her mum’s shoulder, inspecting what she had on hand. Right there, a single shot of her grandfather next to The Little Mermaid in Copenhagen. A man who was giving it all for his family and their future. “He looks so young here.”
“Geez, Uncle Ming Hong looks so much like him.”
She had to agree, her oldest uncle really resembled Ah Kong.
Little Uncle Ming Hong was dressed in a suit, well-dressed for a child his age.
“Ah Ma dressed you all really well.”
Her mum hummed, taking note of her child self. “Perhaps that was how she wanted to present us, Asians in a majority white country, let alone Chinese Malaysians in the 1970s.”
“You look like a little doll.” Jing En smiled at the image of her mum, wearing a red gingham dress with cream shoes.
Living in a foreign land with no familiar faces, the strange changing seasons, it definitely wasn’t an easy process. But still, the travelling and memories must have been worth it, not taken for granted.
When they had touched back on Malaysian soil on their first trip back to his hometown, her Ah Kong had borrowed the only projector in town to hold a mini showcase for the family. A glimpse of Europe through the lens of an Asian family in the 1970s.
To her knowledge, it was the most exciting event in their small town, her mother said.
Of course, this was their opportunity to experience Europe, although it was through stacks of tiny slides with mediocre colouring, it was still delightful nonetheless.
As she went through the slides, one by one, realisation dawned on her. “There are so few of Ah Kong.”
“I guess he thought it was better to photograph his family. Who else would take the pictures?”
Jing En scanned through the details carefully, the way the photos were framed. Maybe, he liked to be the artist behind the scenes.
A deep heart for photography and the arts, but that wasn’t a priority, wasn’t it?
From a family of twelve, striving to make things different and contribute back like a good son, the arts were a dark path to journey on. To make a reliable and strong pillar for the family, choosing a stable and more shiny career path sounded like the better choice.
To provide, to contribute to society, a traditional role for men back then to fill the shoes of, anything less was cast down.
“He always said he enjoyed photographs even though they don’t pay the bills.”
Perhaps Ah Kong deserved to love his art, to quietly appreciate what it was. Jing En hoped he knew that.
—
“Lu jiak hami?”
“… You know, I eat the same thing all the time.”
“And?” her mum pressed. Engaging in conversation may be the best way to keep morale high, even then, it was hard.
Ah Kong tried to answer, pausing for long breaks or staying silent. In the end, it didn’t seem like much could help.
Jing En was disheartened, almost failing to hold it together. If speech and memory was being robbed from Ah Kong, surely this was too cruel. They could never recover from such a blow.
“He should be happy, you know.”
They were driving back now. After sitting around for 40 minutes and watching Masterchef on the television, they decided to head back and leave him to get ready for dinner.
“They got to travel the world, so happy and proud.”
“I know.” Jing En nodded to her mum’s words. “It was good for them.”
“He was the first from the family to attend university, let alone graduate from such a prestigious one too.”
“And look at how we are now,” Jing En finished, glum taking over her demeanour.
Clearly, internalising these feelings were not the best. But how else to cope? What other way was there for them? If they were facing hurdles to provide care but unable to go through it, how else could they move forward?
Another memory was brewing, cogs whirring to deliver it to her.
“Ming Jun has looked after us well. He can do it.”
“Please, Dad. He’s so busy.”
As much as the situation was painful and upsetting, there were just some things that could not be resolved or smoothed over.
There were comparisons with sons being favoured over daughters, expectations and responsibility heavier on their shoulders. Chauvinism wasn’t uncommon among families, Jing En was well aware of that. But the heavy mental load it took on them was too much.
Her mum was never expected to look after her grandparents, but for her uncles, it was a very different story.
“He can’t cope with this anymore. He’s burnt out.”
It was true. Her uncle had too much on his plate, from caring for his children, working a tiring job and looking after his parents? Eventually, the steam would fade away, like embers dying.
“But there’s no other choice.” Jing En knew that this discussion was not bringing anything to the table. “You aren’t going to bring them back home. We just can’t.”
Whatever ideas they thought were simply not possible. Her uncles had shot it down, stating it was either unnecessary or just not practical.
“Why are we always unhappy when we come?”
Although it was never spoken, Jing En knew that her mum was withholding all her feelings of this. This… strange sense of grief and loss was unfathomable, with no other way to be handled.
A laughter of disbelief. “We’re not unhappy. We’re just… tired.”
It felt the same to her, which probably wasn’t right. Not feeling constant happiness didn’t mean that they were unhappy, but maybe a neutral middle ground. Numb wasn’t the word to describe it either, but it did explain some parts.
“Maybe Ah Kong would have been happier as a photographer.”
“Maybe,” her mum murmured. “Can you imagine how different life would have been?”
If Ah Kong had to lay down his passion and aspirations to support and bring the best to his family, wouldn’t it be a waste if she didn’t reach for the stars with the opportunities presented to her? What would be the point of his sacrifices if she didn’t do what he couldn’t?
He dedicated his entire life to serve and provide in hopes of giving his children the absolute best, and that was for their futures too. His sacrifice was like a drop of water that rippled, making waves bigger than one could ever imagine.
If only he could have truly expressed his art and creativity too.
—
“Come along, Jing En,” her mum called, gesturing to her to enter the room.
Ah Kong had finished his morning tea and pastry, wiping his mouth neatly before catching them in his sight.
Her mum approached him with small steps. “It’s our last day here, Dad. We’re going to the airport after this.”
“You’re going? Where?”
“Home,” her mum answered, reaching out to hold his hand. “We’re going back home.”
“Oh, that’s good,” he said. There was light coming back to him, some form of it at least.
They brought him out to the garden, a smooth pavement winded around the property. Walking around was his favourite pastime, so Jing En fell into step beside him. Accompanying his shoes shuffling along the path and cold air that bit at their faces, she quietly matched each step he made so they were in the same pace.
He used to walk around the neighbourhood, her younger cousins’ teachers knew who he was since he walked them to school each morning, a forever ago.
“You know, Ah Kong, I really want to say that I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me in the past.” She had to get the words out or it would just consume her, now or never. “Teaching me how to cycle, showing me how the world works.”
It didn’t matter whether he was processing her words, she really just needed to get it off her chest.
“I know the past few years have been complicated and there were unpleasant words exchanged. But I want you to know that despite it all, I am still your granddaughter.”
Jing En wiped away at her eyes, inhaling a deep gulp of air. “I wish I told you all this earlier, that we had more time together. But I just want to tell you that I’m sorry. I—”
“Jing En.”
“Yes, Ah Kong?”
“Look at me.”
A brief pause, and she took a good look at him. The same eyes that held so much wisdom and experience, hands that held her and guided her. For a moment, she could see him just like he was in the pictures. Young, bright and full of life.
“You should just do well and be happy.”
She could barely string a proper sentence, stillness in the air. “You should be happy too, Ah Kong.”
Her grandfather said nothing, and went along as the conversation hadn’t happened, resuming their little stroll.
Even as they got ready to leave, not a word was uttered. Jing En looked at her mum and understood to say goodbye.
“I’ll be back soon, okay?” She gave her grandfather’s hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to comfort him one last time.
Jing En quickly turned away, blinking away tears that formed in her eyes. She couldn’t break down now, not in front of him, it would crush her soul.
“We’ll come to see you soon, all right?”
A nod of acknowledgement. “Okay.”
—
The sun was shining brightly that day, just like how it was now. White fluffy clouds splashed across the vast blue sky, tree leaves billowing in the wind. One thing that bothered her was the natural landscape, Jing En frowned at the greenery, she didn’t like how muted it looked. The leaves and green were richer back home, perhaps a result of the sunny weather and humidity.
Nope, she was not going to think about that now. There were more important matters to work on.
Heading to the front counter, she signed her name and checked in the time before a staff member noticed her presence.
“Are you here to see your…”
“Yeah,” she answered quietly, drumming her fingers on the counter. Calm and steady breaths.
“Good. He’s in the main room.”
In the end, despite conflicts and cracks, maybe family was about keeping things together, desperately holding onto a dying light. Hope was strong, and maintaining it was hard to imagine. Maybe, in its imperfect and broken form, love was acceptance, choosing to fully embrace when all else failed.
In this case, choosing to hold on and also let go was likely the first step towards healing. What mattered was their decision to do with what was left.
Piecing together what was broken wasn’t impossible but a lengthy process, however slow and tiring it was, it was absolutely worth it in the end.
“Hi, Ah Kong.”
He turned his head to face her, a brief flicker in his eyes before a smile lit his face.
In that moment, the world felt right once more.
Written by Zhen Li
