There are some phone calls you will never forget. One such came on the morning of June 10, 1990. I was alone in the house with Jon (6), Samantha (3) and Sarah who was just 2 weeks old. My maid had gone to the market, and Alan had gone on a Car Treasure Hunt with his siblings, Jef and Sue.
“Sok Liang, Dad says he’s dying,” my mum-in-law said in a really calm voice.
“He wants to call the pastor,” she continued.
I was flabbergasted. Dad had been critically ill for a while now, but how could he know he was dying? Besides, the English congregation had gone to Malaysia on a church retreat. Furthermore, it was a Sunday, and the remaining pastors were busy at service or some other duties. I could not leave the house until my maid came home, could not call the siblings who were out – the mobile phone had not been invented yet, and the pagers were only used by a precious few. I think I called Kenneth, the eldest. I think I called the church – I cannot even remember what exactly happened any more. The long and short of it is the retired, elderly lady pastor –Rev Tan came. Dad passed on in the middle of her prayer – as peaceful and as prepared as only the most blessed can be.
Dad was a blessing in my life. In him I saw what a husband could be, what a father was like. He was everything by way of relating that my 爸爸 was not. He was openly affectionate and was able to talk to us, not as an adult to child, not insisting he was right, but with an ear to listen and a deep chuckle when we were silly. He made me feel comfortable.
Don’t get me wrong. Dad was no angel. His short temper was legendary. None of us dared to bring him to any famous stalls with long queues. He would walk out in a rage, and scold us for wasting time and money on such silly food. He had been known to get so upset with his sister, our Auntie Violet, that even in the middle of a Malaysian highway, would stop the car and asked her to get out. When the tantrum was over, we could all laugh at it, but when he was in a rage, all we could do was cower, and wait for the storm cloud to pass.
Dad was a very capable man. He earned a scholarship to study engineering in England, and eventually became the Chief Engineer in the Public Works Department. He was no yes-man though, and we suspect that he would have risen even higher, if he would only toe the line.
Life had not been easy on Dad. When he was young, his father left home because of a second family. Then my brother-in-law was nearly killed in a freak accident. A tree branch fell on his motorcycle as he was riding. He was in a coma for a spell. That was when my parents-in-law became Christians. They saw the love of the community of believers, taking turns to visit and to pray for him. In case any reader is worried, Jef is the fittest of the siblings today!
1987 must have been a terrible year for him. That was the year Kenneth and Jenny were incarcerated for being participants in a ‘marxist conspiracy’. It was even more painful when Kenneth was re-arrested in 1988. This was a traumatic period in our lives. It was agonizing to watch Kenneth and Jenny on TV, saying things we knew they were forced to say. None of us dared to talk about it, not sure if verbalizing our emotions would jeopardise Ken’s chance for freedom.
This is what makes me respect Dad so much. Despite the bitter lemons, dad did not allow it to fester and ruin his relationship with his loved ones. I never hear him reproach anyone for what happened. He still exhibited a very pleasant disposition – when he was not in a temper, that is, a ready smile, a ready laugh. Thus despite the pain, the family is still warm, caring and welcoming.
My sweetest memories of dad must be his lime juice. Whenever he knew we would be visiting, he would buy limes and squeeze them and make the best lime juice ever. There were also the lovely tea sessions – just a teapot of Earl Grey, perhaps some biscuits, and a yatter and gossip about some distant relatives. Saturday lunches were a tradition. Mum and Dad would drive to Kandahar St, buy rendang, chicken rendang and other padang dishes from Sabar Menanti, and the entire family would enjoy a yum meal, and great conversation around the table.
The late eighties were difficult years for Dad. They also brought him joy. 1984 he saw his first grandson. You should see Dad bully him. Whenever Jon visited, and fell asleep, Dad, without fail, would try to wake him up. Jon hates to be woken up – even today! You should hear the wails! 1987 he was blessed with Samantha – his first grand-daughter. 1989, Kenneth’s daughter, Jeanette was born. Two weeks before he died, Sarah was born. I believe he waited for this grand-daughter, knowing well that his days were numbered. I felt at 
peace, glad that I had brought her to visit him, that he had seen and touched this grand-daughter before passing on to eternity.
One of the fondest memories we have was when as a family we stayed at a Fairy Point Bungalow. Being a civil servant before, family vacations were often spent in government owned bungalows. We rented this huge bungalow that overlooked the Changi Sailing Club. The afternoons were spent drinking tea in the garden, and looking at yachts trying to berth. There was one lost yachtsman, who went round and round in circles, to our merriment. There was also a slope that led to the sea. Grandpa would bravely bring Samantha down for a swim. To this day, if you ask Samantha what she remembers of Grandpa, she would say that he brought her swimming.
Dad truly was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather. We all miss him, including Jenny and I, the daughters-in-law. We wish he could have been around to see the other two grandchildren, Jenny’s Jessica and Efrem. We just wish he could still be alive today. But how many men can predict their final hours like dad did? How many had the privilege of being able to get a pastor to pray even as they go? That is truly a blessing. God had shown His hand in taking Him away. What more can we ask for?
But we still miss him.
