I was eight when my paternal grandfather died.
I remember him as a kindly, respected gentleman. He was quite enterprising, buying things from suppliers, even from Johor Bharu and Kuala Lumpur, and selling them in our shophouse. We had a van delivering things to small businesses in various towns in Kelantan. The merchandise ranged from fashionable scarves and cosmetics, to rubber tapping knives and rubber boots. At one point, we even made and bottled our own "Brilliantine", men's hair oil.
We lived in a rent-controlled double storey shophouse in Kota Bharu, which was also a halfway shelter for my older cousins studying in secondary schools nearby. They helped my father in the shop downstairs, and the girls often helped my mother in the kitchen. My grandfather lived nearby in Kampung Cina. We led a routine life then. Lunch was ready for everyone, including the workers, at 11 a.m., dinner at 5 p.m. After lunch, the younger grandchildren would queue to receive our 'snack' money from my grandfather. We would then head to the grocery shops on the same row.
Everyone seemed to be busy each day, but there came a day when we children were all given stern reminders to make as little noise as possible. My grandfather had been ailing for sometime, and the air became sombre. Everyone seemed to be whispering all the time. Death seemed to be a dreadful phenomenon, something to be feared and avoided, if possible.
Then came a time when an owl was frequently spotted on the roof nearby. I remember my cousins chasing it away, as owls were considered an omen of death. Do owls actually have a sense of imminent death?
My grandfather passed away peacefully weeks later, surrounded by his family. I remember being asked by an old aunt why I did not weep. How could I explain to her that death was just a transition, that my grandfather was free from pain of his illness? I just felt immense relief then.
Coincidentally, today is the fifth anniversary of my mother-in-law. She was with us in our present home when she passed on. She had needed constant medical care, and the same feeling of moroseness was heavy at home. A week before her passing, I was feeling very down-hearted, and went to my balcony outside my bedroom for fresh air. It was past midnight, and I was taking deep breaths when I realised there was a dark form just feet away on the roof. It turned out to be a big owl when it flapped its wings and flew away.
I am now at the same spot typing these words. We have converted the balcony into my office. Is the similarity between these two events involving owls such a coincidence, one five years ago and the other fifty years ago?
I suppose the universe has its own patterns of alignment, which is beyond our understanding. I pay tribute to our ancestors, who have paved the way for us.
