8th Year - Always in our hearts ... ;-(

Being caught up with our lives is no excuse to forget the anniversary of her passing. Ain posted in her facebook to remind us as we were so caught up with our work, chores, tasks and families .... she missed her grandmother and today, the 3rd of August, was the anniversary of Mak's death. Ain and Amira lived with her since they were babies. Kak Ti left them with her in Malacca as she had nobody in KL to help her. Ain went back to her mother in Standard 3 which meant she lived with Nenek for 8 years except for holidays. Amira was the most pampered grandchild. Infact, when Mak went off for her haj, Amira was sent to Cameron Highlands to be with Kak Haj so that she would be busy with the vegetable farm. Amira carried with her Mak's clothes and her photo. When Kak Ti moved to Rompin as Abang Md. Noor was transferred there, she went there for her schooling. Kak Ti was upset that her phone bill shot up to almost RM200 a month that she forbade Amira to call Nenek so often. In fact, Amira called Nenek to tell her everything. That was how close these two grand daughters were.

We could only offer prayers for her and Bapak. They never did left us. They lived in our hearts and through the little things that reminded us of them. Mak loved shopping. She loved to buy things just for the sake of buying and in her generosity, would always give away the old ones to others. If nobody wanted it, she would put it out nicely for the garbage men to take it offering it to them. Sofas, refrigerators, TV, carpets, ....During Hari Raya, she would prepare  cookie hampers and "duit raya" for the garbage men. She would wait patiently for them to come to collect the garbage and asked them how many people were with them. Then, she would give out her hampers and "duit raya" much to the surprise and pleasure of those workers. Her generosity was inherited by most of us. When Hamid was hospitalised and he was moved into the ordinary ward from the ICU, his generosity knew no bounds either. When Wah and I visited him at the hospital, he reminded us to bring some goodies for the patient of a certain bed as that man had no visitors. He asked us to give him some money so that that patient could get what he needed. Since he was a long term patient, he would get to know all the patients in his ward and read all their files and cases. Thus, when we went to visit him, he would regale the histories of every patient in the ward. He should just be the doctor !!!! So, we would comply with his wishes and brought goodies the next day for whomever that he wanted to give them to. This trait I passed on to my sons. Such was the impact Mak had instilled upon us. She never told us to be generous but we observed, we saw, we witnessed and we just followed her example ....

Another incident that struck me was when the boys questioned her race. When they were younger and in primary school, they just accepted her as Nenek. As they grew older, they questioned her fairness, her style of dressing which was always her kebaya nyonya and batik sarong ....  and insisted that she was a Malay like all their friends' grandmothers. I told them that she was a Singaporean Chinese and in other words, a Nyonya. As they grew older, whenever they helped out at their father's shop, customers would approach them and speak to them in Chinese. When they went to boarding school, they were Malays who were fair but with Chinese eyes. It did not help that their father had Indian blood in him. Thus, the boys are truly Malaysians - Malay+Chinese+Indian. I refused to acknowledge that my mother was Chinese when I was in school so that I could "belong" to the Malays. I was not Chinese enough to be one with the Chinese. It was like halfway through and over the years all of us had identity crisis. It was until we were older that we realised how different we were and accepted it. In fact, proud of it. Now, as they approached their twenties, they realised that being different was an attraction to the opposite sex! :-)) Of course, it was a bonus! Well, I had gone through new staff asking me if I was a convert. The more daring would ask if I was of mixed blood. Students who referred to me as "the Chinese teacher who converted to Islam" ...;-}  When I got married, the kampung people were wondering if Noor had married a Chinese .... 

Sometimes, I wished she was still around to guide me. To advise me. To tell me old stories about her life and the past. To teach me how to cook well. To help me with raising the boys. .... I miss her and she lives in my heart then, now and forever. . . . . . .

Mak with Akmal, at one month old ... ;-) (1991)