In Loving Memory Of My Father

My father passed away peacefully early Sunday morning.

He was 83 and had certainly led a good long life.

My father taught us through example more than words as he was a man of very few words. He was a fiercely dedicated and loyal government servant who served in the JKR throughout his entire working life.

He was feared (due to his strictness and his zero tolerance for nonsense) yet highly respected and loved by all his subordinates. He helped everyone regardless of race and religion, and led them to fulfil their potentials, and more. His subordinates (from labourers to officers) called him “Uncle”, not “Tuan” or “Boss”, because they would grow to love him for all he had done for them. Due to the nature of his job, he was stern and authoritative, yet he had a heart of gold. A rare combination.

As a technical assistant, he had to deal with many contractors and tenders. As far back as I could remember, my father had always had a reputation of being so honest that “you cannot even treat him to a drink, what more, a meal”. He was equally well-respected by his superiors for his knowledge, expertise and experience. He was a super efficient person.

My father had always been posted to small towns to work where there were no engineers, so as a technical assistant, he would be head of the JKR of the town. He had no particular specialty, but knew everything from water works, to electrical and civil. And he knew them well. The roads my father built would not have potholes – we were so proud to travel on “the roads Papa built”.

I grew up watching how dedicated, hardworking and responsible my father was to his job. His job was never about a means of getting money; it was his passion and his responsibility and he gave it his all. I think this is the greatest silent lesson my father taught me – that when you have a responsibility, you give it your utmost. There is simply no other way.

I was perhaps too young to know about the buildings he built and his other projects at work, but I do remember that way back when cars had no air-cont, my father made history by installing an air-cont in our car! Mechanics were bewildered and inspired by his technical expertise. We proudly traveled in our brown Hillman Hunter…that had air-conditioning! Needless to say, some of my father’s best friends were soon, car mechanics! If you had a problem with your car that no mechanic could fix, go to “Uncle Chan”, he will fix it for you! That also applies to your radio or television set, or record or cassette player, etc. He had both the knowledge and the skills (with his hands) to fix things.

I am now still driving his (first model, 2001) Kelisa that he had single-handedly “modified”. I can safely say it is the most powerful Kelisa I have ever driven, and it has the brightest headlights too. He even installed special locks to the doors (and these were all his own creations). Modern-day mechanics cannot figure out what my father had done to the car to make it THIS efficient! When we send the car for service, they would say, “Wire ini untuk apa?” and we would have to say, “Oh, itu tolong jangan sentuh, bapa saya buat.”

I also remember that way back when home security systems were totally unheard of, my father built our very own “security system” in our house in Kuala Kangsar (after it was broken into once). Our window grilles and door knobs would be electrified every night so that anyone intending to break in would literally get a shock!

My father had many hobbies and some did not have anything to do with this technical know-how. He could carve beautiful statues out of blocks of wood – he was very good with his hands. Upon his retirement, he even built a fish pond in his garden, with his bare hands! He did this so that when we returned for holidays, my (then) young children would have something to play with and indeed my children remember spending lots of time sitting by the fish pond playing with the fish. It was a beautiful pond, lovingly crafted in his tiny garden. There were even deep tunnels for the fish to play hide n seek!

My father’s handicrafts, technical or otherwise, was perfect to a tee because he was so meticulous, passionate and knowledgeable, settling for nothing except perfection. He also read avidly and had a huge library of books, his favourite subjects ranged from comparative religion to history (especially about military strategies in world wars!).

My father loved music too (and this definitely rubbed off on me), especially music from the fifties and sixties and the classical Indonesian keroncong. I think way back, our house probably had the largest collection of records in the whole town. Friends, which included the town’s ADO, would come to our house to listen to the latest keroncong music! My father also taught himself to play the piano, but only in F major (no other keys)! I picked up my love for and knowledge of music from the constant exposure to different genres of music being played in our house.

My father’s medals from the state of the Perak and the Federal government.

He was an exemplary government servant and a good friend to everyone.

During his wake, it came as no surprise that among the visitors were a mechanic from Kampar, a contractor from Kuala Kangsar, a former draftsman (who is now a very successful contractor) who used to serve in Kuala Kangsar, a senior engineer (his superior) who used to serve in Kuala Kangsar – all who have remained his very, very good friends for decades. They all regard my father as a good friend, a mentor, a “sifu”. Dato’ Seri Ong also drove down from Ipoh with Datin and their two children to pay their last respects. They were neighbours (after my parents had retired and moved to Ipoh). Dato’s children remember “Uncle” fondly as a person who would help them “build things”.

That certainly describes my father – a builder of “things” (all kinds of “things”)!

As a father, he loved us to bits but also, in his very quiet and silent ways. He was very strict and ensured we studied hard – he created a task for us to ensure we would be bilingual whereby we had to keep “meaning books” for every school subject. In these books, we wrote words in English and translated them to BM or vice versa. He would run spot-checks on these books often (and yes, I was terrified during these spot-checks!). But as strict as he was with our studies, he also made sure we were never deprived of recreation – books, toys, music, etc. He showered us with lots and lots of books and toys – I definitely remember this fondly. He pampered us, but never spoilt us.

One particular episode comes to mind, and I only knew about this many years after it happened…

As a highly talented technical person, my father was offered a lucrative private position in Kuala Lumpur while we were living in the small town of Kampar. He was given the opportunity of traveling there to view the place and apparently, they had even already engraved his name on the door of his soon-to-be office too. My father made the trip to KL, stayed in a hotel (provided for) and the next morning, he looked out of the window and saw little children lining up in the dark to wait for the school bus to go to school.

My father never took the job.

He gave us a wonderful and safe childhood where we could walk or cycle all over the small towns that we lived in (primarily Kampar and Kuala Kangsar); where everyone in town knew us by name, where it was still so safe and most importantly, where people still practised “small town” values.

That shaped us to be what we are today.

My father loved animals too – dogs, cats, fish, chicken, geese, all animals. Needless to say, we grew up surrounded by pets. He was a devout Buddhist and was extremely generous. My father never liked to travel, because home was always where his heart was. Everything he ever needed and wanted was always at home – his family, his hobbies, his tools, his passions.

My cousins remember my father fondly as the family disciplinarian who could silence us noisy and boisterous children with one stare or just a shout. He never needed to say much in all his conversations, all his life. To him, talking too much is a total waste of time. My daughter remembers that whenever he called her daily on the phone (he doted on the grandchildren), he would ask for news and when there were none, he would just say “no news is good news”.

During the last months of his life, when he was bed-ridden, he decided he would really, really talk only when necessary. Many friends thought dementia had set in because he refused to answer many questions and would just stare at them and look blankly. We were initially worried too, but very quickly we realised he was just having some fun. The truth is, he was still as sharp as a needle.

When friends asked him things like, “Do you remember me?”, “Who am I?”, “What is your name?”, my father would just stare at them and look blankly without saying a word. But if you asked him, “How are you?”, he would answer “Still alive” and smile – short and simple, straight to the point. And every once in a while, you’d be treated to his quick and witty repartees of more than two or three words. This is our favourite excerpt from all the short conversations he had while he was bed-ridden and thought to be “demented”.

Friend (in a loud voice): Do you know who I am?
Father: Why don’t you tell me who you are?
Friend exclaims (genuinely impressed): You see, you see, he doesn’t remember me, but he can still ask me to tell him who I am!!
(Father smiles behind the friend’s back)

That was my father – he could be so stern, authoritative and feared, yet he had this wry sense of humour that only very few understood (and enjoyed!). And he was definitely as sharp as a needle, right until the very end.

He never needed much, even during the final years of his life when he was bed-ridden. My father was a man of extraordinarily simple tastes, especially when it came to externals like clothes and food. He dressed very simply and ate even more simply (both of which I definitely inherited!). My father could eat the same food for months, even years, with absolutely no complaints. To him, the purpose of food was just to sustain life, and life is about much more – it was about what one can do with one’s mind and heart; it was about helping people and yes, building things. Beautiful things, crafted with love and passion.

He inspired so many people to better their lives and realise their potentials. He helped so, so many people. We are so proud of all he had given, to so many.

Whatever accomplishments we have achieved today is a tribute and testament to my father’s silent ways of guiding and teaching us about life – with very, very few words, but very powerful deeds and example.

Farewell, Papa.

You definitely live on in all of us.

During the internment of his ashes this afternoon, a dog came to pay respects!!

How apt and touching!
(My father would have definitely loved this. This dog came all the way from the cafeteria in the rain!)

We wish to express our utmost gratitude and appreciation to all friends and relatives who came from near and far, to share our bereavement, for their support, comfort and friendship. For those who could not come, we thank you very much for your kind messages of condolence and your prayers.

We thank the following organisations too: Subang Jaya Buddhist Association, Setia Alam Sambodhi Buddhist Association, Buddhist Gem Fellowship, Klang & Coast Buddhist Association, Kinrara Metta Buddhist Society, Bandar Utama Buddhist Society, Mudita Buddhist Society, PAWS Animal Welfare Society and Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better.

A note of special thanks too to Nirvana Memorial Service for their simply excellent and highly professional and compassionate service.

Thank you for the compassionate guidance, Venerable Sirs.

Sharing merits with all beings.

We are very grateful to Sara, our part-time caregiver who helped my mum look after my father during these last few months. While my father refused to talk to many friends and relatives, he responded to Sara, in perfect Bahasa Malaysia. While friends insisted my father had dementia, Sara always insisted that my father was lucid. Of course he was. We know he was. He was just having a some fun pretending to be demented!

Two of my father’s oldest work-friends.

Thank you very much for the support, dear friends.

Being the generous man that he had been all his life, as a tribute to him, my mother has decided that all “pak kum” (white gifts) received will be donated to charities. This is what my father would definitely have wanted.

Thank you for joining us in celebrating my father’s wonderful life.

May all beings be well and happy.

Source: https://myanimalcare.org/2017/01/24/in-loving-memory-of-my-f..

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