Sunday, January 23, 2011


Everyone have something that they hold dear.
Everyone have something that they are extra sensitive about.
Everyone will react differently on those sensitive issues.
Everyone have different level of acceptance.

When someone you hold dear,
talks about you (in a bad way) or compare you (to something or someone which you obviously are not like that at all) or treats you in a way which is way off your level of acceptance. How would you feel? Hurt? Angry? Despair? Confused? What would you do? Fight back? Tell them how you feel? Keep your silence?

I am a very simple person.
I put my family first in everything. And at the same time, within this family, there are things that make me feel unease sometimes. Of course, it happens in every family. There are not a single family which have no problem at all. Even if I point out the problem, the situation will not change. The problems is here to stay. I can only live with it. So, how do I feel? I feel congested with mixtures of feeling and sometimes I would break down without any pillars to support me. So, what can I do? Find a corner which I can hide and cry.

Being the youngest son with a younger sister,
I am one that holds no privilege whatsoever at home. Simon is the eldest son and usually, in Chinese tradition, the eldest son is more favourable to the parents. Kelvin is the smartest one whom have the highest achievement, he is the pride of the family. Samantha is the youngest and only daughter at home, obviously she's pampered most and thus, have the worst attitude. Where do I come in? Probably "just another son"?

To attract my parents' attention,
I have to do things that my siblings will not do. I pushed myself to excel in many ways. I help my parents to do all the things that my siblings don't usually do. For one instance, I am the only one who would bathe and feed the dog apart from my mom. Another, I am the one who care enough to do check the garden out and cut branches. When the toilet bowl is non-functioning, who will fix it? *all fingers point at me* At school, I wanted to be the best in everything I do. St. John, prefect, Interact, etc etc. I love to be the son that my parents can proudly brags about. At the end of the day, I failed to do so. Not only I was not the top brass in extra curricular activities, I screwed my SPM examination.


For that,
my sis never show respect. If it was Kelvin, she'll gladly listen to him without complains. Whenever I give her advice (even in a mild manner), she'll show me disrespect. Even the youngest in the family treats me that way. Mom and dad will side her most of the time. If not, both of us will be scolded. However, I am used to it. What can I complain? I have a home, I have a family and I have a life. It wouldn't be home if things are different. Probably I am destined to be the timid character in the family?

If they have said anything that hurts,
just swallow it whole like an oyster straight down the throat and don't fret about it. Some things should not be said and even if it is said, I just have to live with it. That is life as we know it.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Funeral Procession

Finally have time to blog..
Its been 6 days since grandpa ended his dwelling in this earthly world. The last time I was in a funeral procession was 15 years ago. Never did I anticipate myself to be in a funeral procession. Much less, my grandfather's.

In a typical Buddhist family, the funeral procession is very detailed.
There are many steps and procedure that we must follow. When I first step into the funeral parlor, I promise not to cry. Not in front of my relatives. And most importantly, my grandpa especially he is no longer here. I told myself, grandpa will never want us to cry. He is one that loves to cheer people up. Will he want to leave us crying? Thus, I did not shed a single drop of tear during the whole procession.

The whole procession took 3 days 3 nights.
Very tiring. Both mentally and physically. Spent 12-16 hours at the funeral parlor every day. I'll never complain though. It was my last few days spending time with grandpa. The only few things I can do is burning paper money, light up joss sticks, light up candle and buy food for him. When I saw him laid resting in the coffin, all I see was the man who loved me. All the negative memories are deleted from mind. I've said once; never regret for the things I've done but regret for the things that I could have done. I regret that I never treat him better when I could have.

The cremation ceremony was the worse.
I know that its the last time looking at him. Only then, I realised how much thinner he is compared to last time. He laid there peacefully. Completely with no stress and worries. It was a serene moment when I see him for the last time. I told him that I would miss him. I really do. When his coffin was pushed into the incinerator, I felt really sad. But it was his will to do so. The next day, the only thing left is his dust and his bones. White as snow. His bones was thin and his skull is really small and round.

His remains were transferred into a jade pot.
We "sent" him to the memorial park to his new "home". The place is still quite new. It was really nice and we decided to get grandpa the best place the memorial park can offer. A place in an air-conditioned room, over-seeing the whole memorial park. Perhaps he would be a little bit bored there. I can't hope for more "neighbours" staying with grandpa - that's same as wishing more people to end their journey of life. However, its the best place we can get for him. A place ideal for him to be at peace, away from all earthly trouble.

R.I.P Grandpa.
Your smile will remain in our heart.
You live as long as we have you in our heart.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

I'm bound to be haunted by all those childhood memories...


The thing about life; we don't appreciate what we have.
There were once a man who loves me very very much. He fetch me to and from school. He brings me out for tea almost everyday. He made me his special kid. He told me stories from his past. He bought toys for me. He brags about me when he talks to his friends.

But as I grow up,
I felt annoyed when he brings me out and brags whole day with his friends. I thought that he's simply wasting my time. Talking non-stop about his past; the same old stories. I was rebellious. I even walked back home when you didn't realise. Ever since, you never bring me out for tea anymore.

Up till yesterday,
He was still there. Bragging about my siblings and I. He told his friends in the hospital that Simon gonna get married and he gonna be on stage to perform, Kelvin is studying in Cambridge and will be back this June and I am going to study at England. They were all in awe, filled with envy. He was healthy and witty. Everyone sees him as a charming man. He can talk to just about anyone in the hospital from the doctors all the way to the janitors.

Today, however,
I miss the time that he would be bring me around, brag about me and talk to me. I wish that I could personally fetch him out for tea. I wish I could let him brag to his friends about me. I wish I could see his smile once more. I wish I could listen to his stories no matter how many times I listened to them. I wish he is still here. Grandpa, I miss you.

Of all the things I could've told you,
I said to you yesterday; Grandpa, don't miss me. That was the last thing I told him. I never expect you to really not miss me and "go away". I should've said I'll wait for your CNY ang pow or for my birthday present or anything as long as you come back home healthy. WTF I said don't miss me?

I still remember...
Your favourite drink; Kopi O gelas
Your favourite past time; Performing chinese opera
Your favourite story; How you saved your colleague from being crushed by lorry
Your favourite phrase (even though its obscene); TNM(you guys should now what's this)

There were once that I was handed an assignment;
History assignment on WWII - The Japanese Invasion of Malaysia. We were to interview a person who have personal experience during that period. I interviewed my grandpa. He told me every single detail he could remember. It was really really interesting. In another assignment, we were to write about a family member who had contributed to the community. Again, I wrote about grandpa. He was a police officer who had gone through many things. A righteous man who never accepted bribery. Perhaps his sense of righteousness had been a stumbling block in his career life. He was proud to be righteous though. In the end, I got an A for both assignments. I never thanked him enough.

This morning you were about to go for surgery,
I was still enjoying the comfort of sleeping on the bed. I care to call or anything. When you sent through the doors of the surgical room, I was having my plate of wantan mee. When we arrived at the hospital, you're already under the knife. We left and wandered around when you were still in the surgical room. During our journey back to the hospital, dad called. He told me that your heart rate were 108/68. That is pretty normal for an average adult. But when we arrived the second time, you were already in critical condition. I never get to speak to you for the last time. I was expecting to go with 3 person and back with 4!

All this while,
I know you are really proud of us. Telling people how smart we are. What we've achieved. How good we are in our studies. Yet, we've dismissed you all the while. Some of the time, we even argued over small matter. You've been so alone all the while. We didn't even care about that. Heck. To think of it, I was your favourite grandchild. You've done far too much for me. Yet, I was one who neglected you. What had happened the Ivan Ho that was once proud of his policeman grandpa?

To be frank,
I couldn't stop the tears from running down my cheeks writing this post.


But its all too late now..

My beloved grandfather,
Ho Kit Choon
06/03/1933 - 12/01/2011

Monday, January 10, 2011

Of Losing and Lost

In everyone's life,
we are bound to lose something. This is a reality that nobody can escape. But have you ever ask yourself this; What is the different in feel of losing something and of something lost?

The answer depends on individuals.
My answer? When I'm losing something, I experience fear and anxiety. This feeling comes from the root of all fear, fear of the unknown. When we're about to lose something important, the visions of life without the "thing" would kick into mind. As a pessimist, I often envision the worse case scenario. Thus, I rather hang on to things and hope that it will remain as it is. The anxiety is due to the possibility of "fixing" the problem where every single decision counts. I must think very carefully in structuring my strategy to prevent the "thing" to being lost. The fear and anxiety will remain in the whole process of losing that "thing".

When it come to have lost something.
The feeling is remorse. One thing that can be cured only by time or by substitution. Have you ever broke a favourite toy when you were young or scrapped some paint off your car over an accident? The feeling is much similar. You feel bad at first but you'll get over it after some time. Your parents will probably get you something new and throw the broken toy into the bin. You get a paint job or better still, get a new car. There, problem solved. However, I do feel the same remorse over some things that I've lost. But I can do nothing more than that.

Some of the time,
I opt to ignore the problem and tell myself "everything is fine, this is just a dream, everything will turn out good after I am awake". Naive I am. But that is just how I wish life could be.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Not Meant to Be

In our lives, many things are just not meant to be no matter how hard we try. There are no such thing in the world called "another route" to success in my world. I've made one wrong step thinking that; hey, I wanna do something different from Kyle and beat him at it! and ruined my whole life.

Call me a sicko who can't lose out to my brother. Indeed, I'm obsessed with getting myself out of his shadows. Sibling rivalry max. Of all the people in the world, he's the only one I can call idol and the only one that I really really want to triumph over. I'm tired being compared to him. I want, for once, shine under his shadow and radiate light that disperse the shadow. I have close shaves but each and every one of them end up in the dust. Maybe it is never meant to be for me to shine above him?

My first few years of being in secondary school was smooth. I've pushed myself to do things that Kyle have never did and ended up authority-hungry. Becoming a prefect was one of them. Knowing that my brother is very good in academics, I opt to beat him both academically and in curriculum. Indeed, I've become one of the better prefects. But through my own eyes, I've seen things that held my principles in question - teachers helping their fav students, a simple "salah faham" can help students in fight escape unpunished, saying "insaf" will get their ass out of trouble and etc. In the end, my work is not appreciated. I remained as one of the lowly ranked prefects while some prefects got higher ranks whilst doing nothing. Perhaps, I am not meant to be one of the highest ranked prefects?

One of my deepest grudge with my secondary school past ought to be in St. John. I've done with all my heart and all I can for the good of the society. Do you think it is easy to be the middle man between the headquarter and school office? At times, the headquarter gives me a short notice to finish the paper works and those you-know-who teachers tend to delay every single letter. Simplest solution? I go get the signatures on my own. Screw the protocols. Thats how we get things going. Bunch of shallow minds living in crude environment. Ask yourselves this; who is the dumb ass who forced the squad to train under the hot blazing sun every day and got champion in State com? And in the end, what he got? 3 friggin years being Lance Corporal. Once again, it is not meant to be?

Now, closer than ever. I could free myself from the shades. I'm heated, beaten and cooled. Went to a college known for many wrong things with one reason, a full tuition fee waiver for A-level course. What could go wrong? Indeed, nothing. I rise from the grave dug by people who want to see me suffer in Form 4 and Form 5, climbed all the way to the top of my class, did all I could to get a good result, applied to Cambridge, got the interview and got a chance of a lifetime to shine. Yet, I failed. As high as you soar, the more it hurts as you fall. All I could say is that it never meant to be my fate to be on par with Kyle.

What is second grade will remain as second grade.