When it’s time for children to leave the nest Lara, my eldest, left home in September 2004 to study overseas. I always knew it was going to happen. Still, she left an empty space in our hearts and home that was not easy to fill. And then, the other three kids left, one by one. Like other parents, whose children leave the nest, it took us time to realise something had changed forever. 19 September 2004 Our eldest child, Lara, left home on Wednesday to pursue her dreams. That was a day we all knew would come and looked forward to, seeing our children embark on the paper chase which could give them a start in their life. But what we were not prepared for was the emptiness. Suddenly, the house they all thought was too small seemed so big; the dining table was so empty; everything, everywhere reminded us of Lara. Akil, the only boy in the family, would sit in a corner, ignoring his guitars and his books, quietly letting his tears flow, missing his eldest sister. His No 2 sister, tough Laila with the titanium rod down her spinal cord, ever cool and seemingly the Ice Queen, just broke down. Never seen her like that. Lara’s mother and the baby of the family, Leia, are with Lara, helping her settle in. But they will be back soon and they, too, will feel the emptiness. We never knew it would be so difficult to let go. In our hearts, we know that things will be different from now. Lara will get over her sadness and start adapting to life in a strange land. She will make new friends and develop a different perspective on life. Little things like her dislike of cold (she was the only one who did not like to sleep with the air-conditioner on), her love for Malaysian food, her lack of culinary skills, her shyness and awkwardness in making new friends, her devotion to her old friends who will not be there—all these made us pray that she would be able to cope well. As a father, I am angry with myself for not spending those extra hours with her, seeking instead to drag it out in the office and at senseless networking dinners. You cannot understand how you could justify those long working trips and slavish devotion to the office, trying to please un-please-able bosses and never-satisfied shareholders. Do all parents go through this? Kelvin Tan is a good friend. He married young and when he was in his late 30s, his first child, Ming Na, went abroad. He confides that the tears flowed copiously for months and any opportunity he had, he would try to divert his business trips through convoluted routing to see Na for even a few hours. Then, Ming Nu and Ming Ni went away and suddenly, everything else seemed so meaningless. Eventually, Kelvin got over the emptiness but he knows now that those young years would never come back again. Many years ago, an older friend sent me an e-mail and while I remembered the story well, it never struck me how children have such high expectations of us and how, sometimes, we realise too late the importance of quality time for the family. The e-mail was about a father who was so bogged down with work, always taking work home, trying to meet endless deadlines. One evening, his young son came and tugged at his sleeves, saying, “Papa, will you help me with my homework?” He snapped at the boy. “Can’t you see I am busy? Another time. Go ask your mother.” As the boy walked away, the father glanced, in time to notice the tears on the young cheeks. His son just wanted to be with the father. He could do his sums and he did not need his mother’s or father’s help. And that is when the father realised that the rat race had dragged him in so deep, he had forgotten the things that were important to him—his family, his wife, his children, his friends. He went to his son and said: “Keep the books away, son. You will play truant tomorrow and so shall I. We will go out shopping and have ice cream.” Early next morning, they had breakfast, and went out to town, having their ice cream, pizza and browsing the shops. At a toy shop, as his son picked up the card games, he asked whether they had two big—really big—jars and marbles. The store owner asked: “How many marbles?” The father borrowed a calculator and asked for 11,000 marbles and the jars to fill them with. The owner was surprised but said he would get the marbles and jars and, eventually, he did. As they were driving home, the jars and marbles in the car, the boy asked his father why he needed so many marbles and the jars. The father said it was to remind him how important life was. He was almost 45, he said, and he figured that if he led a healthy life, he would live up to 75. The 11,000 marbles were exactly the number of days he had until he reached 75. He said he would keep all the marbles in one jar. Every day, he said, he would take one marble and put it in the next jar. As the first jar became less and less full, he would know that his life was getting shorter and that he must live life, indulging in the things that meant most to him. “What happens when all the marbles are finished and the jar is empty?” “If I am still alive, son, then every day extra will be a bonus, being with you and your sisters and your mother.” For many of us in our late 40s and beyond—and that’s almost half our country’s population—we are nearer the end than the beginning of our lives. What many of us do not have is balance in our lives, the balance between time reserved for family and friends and time for our careers. There are those exceptional people for whom the pursuit of excellence, of immeasurable wealth and recognition is a never-ending task. And they are probably happy with the lives they lead and the achievements they notch up. But for ordinary mortals like Kelvin and me, maybe there must come a stage in life when we say “enough”. Because what is really important to us is the time we can spend with Lara and Ming Na, Ming Ni and Ming Nu. What is really important to us is the time we must now spend with Laila, Akil, Leia and for Kelvin, his young son, Keagan. The time of the year Aaah, yes, the Umno elections are on next week. So? There are elections every three years in Umno and the culture does not seem to change. Poison pen letters, money politics… Anwar Ibrahim is claiming he wants to come back and “reform” Malaysia. He had his chance for 16 years in the Government and he has been talking about it forever. So what else is new? Gerakan and MCA say they are still looking for a merger some time in the future. Their members know better than to wait with bated breath. Lim Kit Siang says he is giving up his active post in the Democratic Action Party after having been at its helm as secretary-general and chairman for more than 30 years. Then, he heads a special committee that is, seemingly, equally powerful. What has changed? The world economy seems to be recovering. Oil prices may stabilise. The killings in Iraq are continuing. The Israelis are still killing the Palestinians indiscriminately and the suicide bombers are still sneaking across the Israeli border and blowing up innocents. The Chechens are taking children hostage and killing them and the Russian soldiers are continuing killing Chechens. Bush has taken the lead from Kerry; disenfranchised blacks are rallying behind the Democrats; snatch thefts are continuing on the streets of Kuala Lumpur and the unrest in southern Thailand has not ebbed. All this will continue. Some crisis will end to be replaced with another. But the time we have lost will never come back. Yes, certainly, all these events happening around us and in the rest of the world have an impact on us, in one way or another. But people become so obsessed with these events that they forget there is more to life. At next week’s Umno general assembly, people will watch how the elections will pan out and who will be the leaders elected to back up Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi’s leadership for the next three years. The 2,500 delegates will decide the course Umno and, with it, the country will take and ultimately, their decisions will also affect our lives and that of the future generations of Malaysia. For the past 58 years of its existence, Umno has by and large remained a pragmatic party. As the backbone of Government since Independence, it has managed to hold together its multi-racial coalition by being fair to all races. Abdullah has shown his total commitment to this concept of multi-racialism and to ensure that there will be a just and fair government in power. There will be grievances. Not everyone will be happy. But over the years, Malaysians have shown that they cherish the harmony and unity we have and as long as that love for our country and our people is nurtured and cultivated, we will remain strong. As Lara was leaving for the airport, she grabbed one of the mini Malaysian flags we have all over our house, saying she was taking it to remind her of how much she is going to miss Malaysia. In a way, I was taken aback. Did I feel the same way about Malaysia when I was her age? I cannot remember. But when I saw her Chinese, Indian, Malay and Eurasian friends who came to the house the night before she left and those who took time to send her off at the airport, and how they hugged her and cried, I knew that Malaysia would survive. We miss Lara.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 00:53:26 +0000
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