“ Truth be told, I’ve never liked visiting DuaGu (eldest uncle in TeoChew) when he was in the care centre. In fact, I dreaded it. I’ve never voluntarily went to the care centre, it was always my mum who planned the visit and me tagging along because it would be absolutely rude, even cruel seeming, if I refused to visit. Although sometimes I do fake a flu, or a heavy load of homework…
The last time I visited DuaGu was when I was back from Taiwan (I study there) for Winter break. I had promised to buy him this delicious local delight before I left for Taiwan. And true to my words (and my mum’s continuous nags), in my luggage was a beautifully wrapped box of pineapple tarts meant as a gift for DuaGu. He was really excited when he saw the pineapple tarts, he was like a child with his napkin around his chin, happily eating away. But me being me, I was secretly hoping that we’d leave soon, because it was hot and stuffy in the care centre and I would very much prefer to surf the internet in my air conditioned room back at home instead.
That was the last time I visited DuaGu. Because I had gone back to Taiwan after my break and he passed away sometime during my second semester there.
Thinking back, I realise it wasn’t that I didn’t love DuaGu, it wasn’t that we had problems communicating, it wasn’t that he was uninteresting and it surely wasn’t that he was old and sick. It was because focusing on these things and how annoying visiting him was, causes a lot less discomfort in me than facing the truth of how hurt I was over his situation does.
It hurt, to see him in his wheelchair during festive seasons giving angpaus to us nieces and nephews but never his own children.
It hurt, to see him cover his bedroom walls with pictures, magazine and newspaper cut outs of family united, celebrating Chinese traditions like having reunion dinners.
It hurt, to see DuaGu sick, with pallid looking skin and old, with wrinkles.
It hurt, to see DuaGu sad and lonely watching his days pass in the care centre.
It hurt, to witness all that and still be vulnerable and helpless in the situation.
Writing about how nice he was and how he loved me when I was a child (read here) reminds me of how gentle and kind my DuaGu was to me. Also, how much I enjoyed his company. He would buy me treats of my choice, tell me fantastic stories of his adventures while delivering bread loaves, share jokes with me, teach me basic Tamil, most of it learned from mingling with his Indian customers.
I loved him dearly, it took me years to understand. And it makes me terribly guilty because all these years, I hadn’t realised that the annoyance I felt during my visits to the care centre was actually a false sense of irritation, a way I coped with the bigger problem deep in my heart, which is how hurt I was by my DuaGu’s situation. Him being abandoned by his own children.
DuaGu, I’m sorry. If I had known all these, I wouldn’t have been so impatient during my visits. I would’ve held your hand, or told you stories even if you might not understand. I would’ve smiled more, maybe even fed you pineapple tart during my last visit.
I wished the pineapple tarts weren’t my last gift to you. I wished I’ve done more, really. But for what’s worth, thank you for being a part of my childhood, thank you for the wonderful memories, thank you for the lessons, thank you for being you DuaGu. May the Good Lord bless you, may you rest in peace. ”
- Chng Ming King’s niece Briana Nino Leong