I Thought of Her Today...

Note: ku po= My grandfather's sisters A-tai= My great-grandmother

I was in the shower when a sudden thought hit me. It was about something I haven't thought of in a long time, not after that day when I saw my great-grandmother's lifeless body.

The ride from Belitung's airport to the shop where A-tai resided was a long one. I sat on the back seat, with my iPod on. I didn't know what to expect, nor did I want to think about it. The summer's heat brought with it a scent of the countryside, and tiny wafts of cool breeze. A town came into view.

I ignored everything. I started to think. What would I do? How should I react? We got off the Kijang - we were there.

Bluntly standing at the shop entrance amongst bouquets of flowers and food in red plates, I saw her photo. How funny. She didn't seem any different from the last time I saw her. When did she take this picture? I fought the tears, and marched stockly towards the photo. The four of us prayed for her, then I greeted my grandfather with a hug. He seemed cold, and somewhat pale.

Forgetting to gather courage, I walked towards the coffin. A-tai laid there, dressed in a white robe. The coffin was covered with a sheet of white lace, but I could see clearly through it. I still remember her face - her wrinkles were gone, her face flushed white, her hair tied back. Where was that aging lady who laughed at me while hitting my arm? Where was she who forced me to take her Rp50,000 note and buy myself some chocolate? Why is she laying there when I can help her walk, when I can hold her arm and walk together slowly? Would she be shocked to see her photo there, like she did when I took a photo of us in my phone and showed it to her?

I didn't cry. I just looked at her. Was it her? She looked different, like she was 30 years younger, maybe 50.

I was about to take my leave, relieved I didn't start crying. At that moment, my four ku po(s) went to see their mother, A-tai, and they cried. Mournfully, achingly. How could I resist? (Even as I am typing now, I am in tears)

It took me so long to stop crying. My face was red, my body was trembling as I forced silence to the tears. My Aunts patted my shoulder, telling me it's okay. They saw me, and cried too. Told me I was a good girl. My grandmother approached me then. She bursts into a fresh round of tears, and this I will never forget, for with a shaky voice I've never heard her use, she told me, "Ni Lai Le, A-Tai Yi Ding Hen Gao Xing." (A-Tai must be so happy, now that you are here)

I didn't know when to stop. They told me to have lunch, but I just couldn't stop. I wanted them to leave me alone, and let me be. So I retreated inside, to the lonely kitchen, where I sat. I turned on lively songs in my iPod, avoided the sad ones. I read my book. No words came in. So I played my DS instead. People who passed by tried to comfort me, and told me to have lunch outside. I ignored them, like they're not there. Shut up. Shut up. Let me be. Give me some time alone.

Finally, I was calm. I had noodles, and roamed the house. My father asked me if I wanted to tour around the town . Eagerly, I agreed. My brother and I stood at the back of the tracktor. My father drived, and my mother beside him.

People we passed stared at me and my brother. We felt either like celebrities, or like animals in a zoo. The wind whipped my hair around, exposing my forehead, yet I felt so free. The sun scorched my skin, but I was happy. It's the transition from a city to a countryside. How different it felt. We passed a series of short buildings, that were 3-storeys-high maximum, their paint chipped off in places, and rusts climbing up its vertical height. The roads were wide, and everyone seemed to recognize each other. I loved Belitung.

We went back to the shop, and everyone wanted to go to the beach. So we did. One beach had white sand that stretched across, colliding with the gentle blue of the ocean. One had a massive collection of large rocks, varying in shapes and sizes, that we could climb over and jump from rock to rock. Another beach had human faeces on the sand, in the water, and my Uncle, who didn't notice them, had a little swim. We also visited a temple. Everyone was so high in spirits, we forgot the sorrow.

For the next few days in Belitung, I went through a lot. Although I've only met A-tai a few times, we had an attachment to each other. It all started when I saw her wrinkly arms, and played with the skin. I told her, "Your skin is so cute! I wish mine were like this." and she would laugh and say, "No, my skin is so ugly. I'm already old and ugly." We would fight about this, me telling her she's cute, and her saying she's ugly. I wasn't lying when I said she was cute. Imagine a petite, wrinkly-skinned old lady with large, thick glasses that covered half of her face, and small, beady eyes. Irresistable.

Yet she was gone so fast. I saw her room in Belitung. I couldn't really make out what was in it. I do remember a chair with a potty bowl below it. My ku po from Japan told me that was where she does all her business, but sometimes she does it on her bed. Her bed wasn't rectangular like ours, but square. And the mattress had pink, floral prints, though it was dulled of its colour. The room had a smell that I couldn't quite make out. Powder? Or something else?

When the coffin was about to be sealed, family members stood in a row, taking turns with the used shampoo bottle that contained scented fragrance for A-tai's little bed. Being the youngest, I was last to hold that bottle. I felt awkward. I circled the coffin, unaware whether I was walking too fast, or slow, and squeezed the fragrance around A-tai's body. Then it was sealed.

It was with mixed feelings that I left Belitung. My mother had a dream about her the very night we came home. Not once did I give more thought about her. Until today, which is months after that incident. I hope my words in my prayer reached her, that I was thankful that, though I've only met her a few times, she remembers me, and we had wonderful times together.

I love you.
Rest In Peace.