I remember my Pak used to bring us to the padang to watch the fireworks and he would reminisce that my elder sis and I would start jumping around like monkeys once the fireworks went off. Today, along with my mom and pak, we drove down to Marina South for the Fireworks festival. Two things are vivid in my mind. The beautiful fireworks set off in the night sky and being glad that the kids got to see it and enjoy it. The other was my father holding on to Matt. I didn’t realise how much they resembled each other (though Jen has always mentioned this fact) until I held the glass door of the shopping centre open for them. I said wide-eyed, “hey, guess what, Matt looks like my father”. Jen of course rolls her eyes. Matt was also very pally with him tonight and even tugged at his shoulder while in my arms to be carried by him. Odd behaviour indeed.
The night before my dad had to go for his colorectal op, he was watering the plants in the garden. I was dishing out some rice. He called to me and I went to the porch with my plate of rice in hand. I squatted down and he wanted to give me some instructions before he went for the op. He told me to take care of my younger sister (especially against men/dogs) and told me to study all the way. That meant I kenah finish the thesis. I was by that time quite jaded. Anyway, I always thought that the hot plate of steaming rice over which those words were parted to me, lent it some air of importance, ceremony.
The next day, after many weeks of coming to terms with the prognosis, and making his peace with God, he walked into the operating room, refusing to be wheeled in. Of course he is fine today, thank God.