The Photograph - Part 2

After a long walk through the back lanes, we stopped at a path, which I saw a road sign written 'Lorong Cempaka' in green bold Arial font. Then, a long shaped wooden door could be seen distinctively. When the boy laid his hands on the door knob, I stopped him from fumbling it.

The heartbeat of mine beating even faster, my hands were mighty cold and sweats seeping out onto my palms. Confusing words were running through my mind. "How would I start my conversation?" I muttered to myself. Despair brought another question in me, "Must I call him Papa when I see him?" asking myself while sorrow provoked in me.

Without bothering me, the boy pushed the wooden door open, which creeked loudly. All that focused into my eyes was a set of china left on a rough wooden table surrounded by four small stools. There and then, tears began brimming in my eyes, but I hold back my tears with great effort as not wanting the boy to notice.

The tiny hand of the boy hold mine, pulling me till the entrance of the room. He then walked over to a man who was lying on a mat.

"A-Pa, we have a tetamu, wake up! Wake up!" said the boy in the sing-song Melaka Malay accent.

My mother's words, "they don't speak proper English," echoed in my mind. I then paced towards the boy who was standing beside the man who was sleeping on the mat with the mixture of excitement and curiosity, until what I saw really shocked me. A familiar person, so weak and frail, was sleeping on the mat. his face, I could remember after I first saw the photograph of him, used to be smooth. But it was now pale, gaunt and wrinkled like old leather.

Slowly, my excitement melted away and I began to hold my father's hand and waited for him to be awake from his deep slumber. as if father could sense my arrivals, his eyelids slowly opened and looked at me with his sickly spiritless eyes.

"Pa...Pa..." I called out with a quivering voice, while the brimmed tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Ma... Mar... Mark... Is... that... you..."answered my father in a raspy voice.

Somehow, my father did not seem like the kind of person who would leave his wife and his children.

"Papa, is that you? I'm glad that I could find you back."

"Mark... Mark..." repeated my father meanwhile he coughed.

I hugged my father, tears were bursting our from our eyes. Suddenly, my father being surprised started to cough continuously and then collapsed on my shoulder. I panicked and could not get my limbs to move in any direction but the boy, who I finally realised that he is my brother knew exactly what to do. He run out of the house to the opposite 'Ludther Family Clinic'. At that time, it was a nightmare and in every tree's shadow I saw the monsters were waiting to take my father away from me.

After a few minutes, I saw the arrival of my brother followed by a doctor and a clinic nurse. The doctor examined my father. I stood aside, feeling helpless and defeated, hoping against hope that my father would open his eyes and shout, "April Fool!" Only it was not April and my father was not fooling.

After the doctor has examined my father, he turned back and faced my brother.

"I have told you to be prepared," he told my brother solemnly.

"You are lucky to have had him for this long."

"Doctor Ludther, can I know what's wrong with my father?" I asked.

"Lu siapa?" questioned the doctor.

"I'm his son," I answered the doctor while being tired and sad.

"Your father is facing a death of lung cancer," added the doctor.

Without hesitation, I ran over to my father trying my best to talk to him, but the clinic nurse protested. On perceiving the gestures from Dr. Ludther, who was standing right behind me, the clinic nurse walked away and left us alone. Soon it was only my father, my brother and I, just it had been minutes ago when I first had my contractions. Now, my father is on the mat awaiting his final departure from his material world.

My brother and I were with father right up to his last breath. It was on unfitting end to our relationship as father and son who have just been reunited. No goodbye though, my father did not even regain consciousness. All I could be grateful was that the serene look on his face assured me that he had no guilt in this life.

Although I had come to terms with my father's death, there was a feeling of incompleteness within me that craved fulfilment. While going through my father's "assets", my brother found his 'Last Will and Testament'. In spite of circumstances, it made both of us laugh.

"Brother!" yelled Steven, my younger brother the next morning.

"What?" I shouted back from the main entrance where I was observing the carrier carrying the rough wooden table into the lorry.

"Come and see what I've found!"

Thumping through the hall I anticipated from dead rats to fallen roofs. It was neither. In Steven's hand was a sheet of an old yellowish paper and he showed it to me. I read, in his large, cursive handwriting:

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT - JOE RODRIGWEZ
To my beloved wife,
I leave a little of my income - My money
To my beloved son - Mark,
I leave a little of my much-loved earth - My artificial flowers
To my son - Steven,
I leave my favourite place of rest - My sleeping mat
To my whole family,
I hope to leave no feelings of rue,
To where I go in that place above,
I shall watch all of you forever with love.

It has been a year since my father left us and we both brothers have survived by the continuation of my father's business in Kuala Lumpur. My brother and I have opened a florist along Petaling Street.



Disclaimer : All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent.