And When Did You Last See Your Father?

Last Sunday was not one of my ordinary ones. I was not out riding as I always do. I was originally planning to go out deep sea fishing with a bunch of friends but had to cancel that too. I was back in my hometown, sitting in the Intensive Care Unit, next to my dad’s hospital bed. It was a Sunday afternoon of mixed emotions; watching the man who was once strong and healthy (and most of the time very loud) now lying helplessly, struggling with his every little move.

A lot was rushing through my mind; reminiscing the many years of my life. He had always been the father figure – in his own unique ways. He may not be the perfect parent but so were we as his children. Everything good and all the success I have now would be his success as a parent. While we may not have such a story-book relationship, we do have our fair share of moments together. Here is the man who taught me how to find a good fishing spot, how to hook a bait, and how to unhook a fish. Here is the man whom I shared many motorbike rides together – with me pillion riding him on his 110cc bike and later him pillion riding me as I get older – of course with continuous commentary and annoying instructions along the way…

Probably one of my best recent memories of him was when I once surprised him and turned up in front of his house on my Harley. I was in between assignment locations and managed to squeeze in a one-week leave just enough to help my family prepare for the next move and went riding 450 km back to my hometown. I heard he was not feeling well so I thought I’d cheer him up. I must have told him at some point that I bought myself a Harley but of course many things didn’t quite register in his memory as always. I can still remember his face when he saw me that evening. The next day, the two of us were riding all around the kampung with him pillion riding at the back, visiting families and even attending a kenduri! He was proudly telling everyone even when they did not ask. I don’t think a ride with him like that will ever be possible again but that’s what I like about good memories; they linger around for a long long time. That was definitely one of the greatest rides of my life!

And now; he doesn’t even recognize me anymore. Alzheimer can be so cruel to the patient as much as to the people around him. When I first arrive at the hospital, he just stared blankly at me. I could just be a familiar face to him but would not register as anyone important to him anymore. It was sad but I kept reminding myself that I needed to be there for him regardless. It’s just that I’m not so good at feeling helpless.

As I sat there next to him, I kept wondering what he is thinking about. He kept talking, almost whispering, mentioning names and places but most of them don’t make any collective sense anymore. I believe those were the remnants of his memories and what’s left within pockets of history of his life. All his life he has been a great story teller with a keen sense of adventure but now he couldn’t even remember them anymore. What’s a great story teller without his stories…?

I was also reflecting of life’s many lessons in all these. The fact that everything comes to an end. What you did affect others in ways beyond of what you can imagine. Life is short so live it to the fullest but even when your life comes to an end; life of others that you have affected will continue, hence a portion of you will live forever… During my ride to the Red Centre I know who will be riding with me – it’s those who believed in me and also those who have made me the person I am today. And I can almost feel him smiling and enjoying the ride, minus of course the commentaries and the in-actual-fact-no-so-annoying instructions…
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