Trip to the Graveyard

That Sunday, the sun is shining ever so brightly and how I wish the day like this the sky would be a little bit grimmer and cloudier. Armed with sunscreen, and parang (bush knife) – My aunt and I made a move. Crossing the stream to the graveyard I could hear the soft whisper of my aunt saying talib sikoi po. Simply means please excuse us for passing by. After walking for few yards, I could see the grey grave stone of my beloved grandma. 

Born 1918, my grandmother survived the Japanese occupation of then North Borneo. Her survival story had become my favourite story tale when I was still a toddler. I still remember how she would stand by the kinder garden school gate to pick me & my brother and I would jump to her arms and beg her to give me a piggy back ride home. During school holiday, I would help her hunt for worm at the back yard of our house for she loves fishing. Like all the old folks in the Kampung, her favourite pastime was to chew on betel nut. 

It’s been 15 years but I can still remember the day she breathe her last breath. It was Chinese New year in 1996. All the immediate family were there at her bedside; she had been bedridden for few years but refuse to get treatment at the hospital. That evening as her talk becomes murmur, I remember running to my bed, got down on my knees and pray to God not to take her then but she was taken anyway. 

And then...I hear a familiar voice “Hey, are you just going to sit there and let me do all the work?” I turn toward the voice, it was my aunt. I give out a soft laugh, withdraw my parang and began slashing the nearby lalang. 

This 2^nd November, the Roman Catholic Church will celebrate "The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed" also popular known as the Feast of All Souls. Just as we pray for the well-being of the living, so must we pray for the soul departed.