Bagan Ajam basked in the warm midday sun, creating beautiful patterns on my writing desk through the window. My faithful cat, Chomel, curled around my feet, her purring providing a soothing soundtrack.
My second son Isaac had already left for work this morning, catching the early ferry to Penang Island for his new job as an IT Network Security officer. He would usually return home late in the evening, leaving me with peaceful afternoons to relax and reflect.
As I reclined on the settee with my hands resting behind my head, I gazed up at the ceiling and thought about my relationship with Clara. Just a few days ago, we had visited the Gurney Drive Food Complex in George Town together.
It was the third day of the Penang Food Festival and despite it being a weekday, the area was bustling with energy. The weather couldn't have been more perfect—a light breeze cooled the warmth of the sun, creating the ideal setting to indulge in Penang's delicious cuisine.
The island's rich culinary heritage was on full display at the festival, with stalls offering a variety of mouth-watering dishes. From fragrant laksa to crispy roti canai, the aroma and flavors were overwhelming in the best possible way. Street performers could be seen and heard throughout the area, adding to the lively atmosphere.
We made our way to a stall known for their Penang Char Koay Teow. It was self-service, so we placed our order for two plates of the special dish, loaded with extra prawns, and grabbed some bottled water. Finding a quiet corner under an umbrella, we settled in to enjoy our meal and the vibrant ambiance.
As we ate, Clara opened up about her past. "I left him because I couldn't take it anymore," she said, her voice steady but carrying years of pain. "His overprotectiveness turned into jealousy, then anger.
I endured physical and emotional abuse, especially after our fourth child. I tried going back after a year apart, but things didn't improve. A heated argument ended with him beating me until I was nearly unconscious. I spent a week in the hospital. That was when I finally filed for divorce."
Clara paused to take a deep breath before continuing. "He's been trying to get me back ever since. Even my children, influenced by him, have turned against me. That's why I moved to Penang after retiring—to build a new life and hopefully find some happiness."
Hearing her story, I couldn't help but admire her strength and resilience. "You're incredibly strong, Clara," I told her sincerely. "To endure all of that and still move forward with such grace."
In a somber tone, Clara continued. "Years of being an independent woman have made me strong. Kuala Lumpur is not for the weak, especially for a single lady like me. But deep down, all I long for is a happy family. A life partner to walk the rest of life's paths with." Her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, met mine.
I sensed she was waiting for an answer, a glimmer of hope to hold onto.
I remained quiet and shifted my gaze away. A part of me wanted to speak up, to say "Yes, I am here with you. We can walk this path together." But the other part, buried deep within me, held back. Nonetheless, I felt an obligation to at least offer her an explanation for my behavior.
"Clara, as Kak Gayah once said, life has its own way of offering us beauty; we just have to be open to finding it. Why not take things one step at a time?" With that, I stood up and motioned for us to go for a walk.
Since then, our conversations have remained light-hearted and Clara's responses have changed.
This morning, we took a stroll by the beach. The atmosphere was tranquil and peaceful, with the early morning light casting long shadows and a refreshing sea breeze filling the air with the scent of saltwater.
The soothing sound of waves provided a backdrop to our conversation, occasionally interrupted by the playful laughter of children and the cry of seabirds in the distance. Joggers could be seen along the shoreline, fishermen were busy preparing their boats, and vendors set up their stalls for the day ahead.
Feeling compelled to share my side of the story, I opened up to Clara. "Your story struck a chord with me, Clara. I've made many mistakes in my life, especially when it came to my children. My work consumed me and I wasn't there for them when they needed me most."
One particular evening stands out in my memory. I remember Sara's trembling voice, filled with frustration as she said, "You're never here. The kids need you. I need you."
I had responded with a hollow excuse, "I'm doing this for us." But deep down, I knew the truth. I was avoiding the growing tension at home, and it was my mistake. Admitting that out loud felt like too much to bear.
As time passed, the distance between Sara and I only grew. I couldn't bring myself to speak badly of her; she was a wonderful woman and an amazing mother. The crumbling of our relationship rested solely on my shoulders.
My absence left a void, especially for Isaac, who would look at me with big, questioning eyes. I was missing out on his life, and it was a wound that never healed. Eventually, that same distance stretched between me and my other two children, making me feel like a stranger in my own home.
One night, Sara confronted me again. "Em Jay, we can't go on like this. I feel like a single parent."
"I'm trying," I insisted, but tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head.
"No, you're not," she said softly. "You're hiding. We need you here, not out there."
I didn't have a response to that truth. My silence and inaction were my greatest failures. Shortly after that conversation, Sara took our three children and left to live in Johor. It felt like a piece of my soul had been ripped away, but I convinced myself it was for the best.
They deserved to be happy without the constant tension in their lives. That lie numbed the pain temporarily.
Now, years later, Isaac and I have managed to rebuild our relationship after he went through a difficult break-up with his fiancée Sally. Our bond has grown stronger, and I am grateful for that. But there are still gaps between me and my other two children and their three children whom I've never met. The feeling of regret is a constant reminder of my failures.
Clara looked at me with understanding in her eyes. "Em Jay, we all carry our own burdens. It's how we handle them that defines us."
"You're right," I conceded, the weight of my past mistakes bearing down on me. "I need to make things right with my other children and grandchildren. I miss them dearly."
"Start with a conversation," Clara suggested gently. "Be honest and let them know how you feel. It's never too late."
Her words stayed with me as we made our way to Kak Gayah's stall for breakfast. As always, the place was bustling with regulars, and the smell of nasi lemak and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. We found a spot at one of the wooden tables and enjoyed our morning together.
After Clara left to run her own errand, I spent the early part of midday alone. As the stall became quieter, Kak Gayah joined me and shared some words of wisdom. "We are all growing old in our own ways," she said.
"When my husband passed away, it felt like my whole world collapsed. But my faith gave me strength. To dwell on the past is to reject the will of heaven. And to deny the future is to object to blessings from above." With a smile, she finished speaking and went back to taking care of her stall.
Everyone in the community knew Kak Gayah's husband. The late Pak Hasan, also known as Lebai Hasan, was a highly respected figure. I considered him a brother that I never had. During a difficult time in my life, he advised me to climb the Penang Hill. At first, I didn't understand his reasoning.
But years later, Pak Hasan explained to me: "Life, including our own, is a gift that is not ours to take. No matter how much we want to end it, if it is not our time yet, we must persevere. And since it is a gift, no matter what hardships we face, there is always a way out." Those words have stayed with me and continue to guide me through each moment.
Remembering this wisdom as well as advice from Kak Gayah, this morning's walk with Clara played out vividly in my mind. After confessing my feelings to her, I felt relieved. But when she took my hand and said, "Everyone deserves happiness, even if it's just a glimpse towards the end of their journey," her grip tightened.
Though I sensed the message in those words—an invitation to forge a serious relationship—I found no courage to comply just yet. We stood together facing the horizon. I said nothing.
As we looked out onto the horizon, the waves relentlessly flowed towards the shore only to retreat and start again. The beach patiently waited for each fleeting touch, seemingly mocking me. I felt like the waves: hesitant to accept Clara's sincerity.
A melody from my mobile gadget startled me. It could be Clara. I walked to my working desk and checked the message. It was Isaac. "Dad... Sally is in town. She wants to meet me. Shall I...?"
I walked to the balcony, Chomel tailing behind me. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, the golden light reflecting off the sea. I sat on my rocking chair, feeling the weight of the situation.
"Invite her here," I replied.
Holding the phone in my palm, I waited for Isaac's response, and the events from weeks ago flashed vividly in my mind. Sara, Isaac's mom, had told me that the idea of breaking up the engagement wasn't entirely Sally's.
The intimate photos she sent were orchestrated. The male in those photos was her ex-boyfriend. She was threatened. Sara had tried to talk things out with Isaac, but he wasn't answering her calls and messages. She only told him to give Sally a chance to explain.
I didn't share this with Isaac immediately. I kept it to myself for a few days. Then, one morning over the weekend, we had breakfast on the balcony. He shared about his new office in Bayan Baru near the Intel factory and his plans to settle down in Penang and start anew.
Only then did I ask him about his feelings for Sally.
"Dad, we've been engaged for nearly four years now. Although she is my cousin, the engagement wasn't my idea. I do have strong feelings for her. I've accepted her. So... asking me about my love for her... my answer is yes,"
Isaac's lengthy explanation surprised me. I knew I had no qualification to judge his feelings, but as his father, I could sense the weight of his words.
"Isaac... marriage is a contract that is supposed to last a lifetime. I made terrible mistakes, not because of choosing your mother, but because of the way I managed our family. Those mistakes haunt me to this day."
I paused, gathering my thoughts. "I'm not questioning your feelings towards Sally. I'm not judging your actions. I'm only telling you that whatever decision you make today, you will live with it for the rest of your future.
As your father, my job is to guide you and support whatever decision you make. You don't have to explain thoroughly the reason. I will always be with you."
Isaac fell silent, his brow furrowed in deep thought. I felt guilty for asking, but I had to let him know that he could count on me.
My mobile played its message melody, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Isaac. "Dad... I'll be home around 8. Gave her our address and your mobile. She may contact you." Attached was a screenshot of his message to Sally.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a sense of calm washed over me. Perhaps, just perhaps, this meeting with Sally could be the start of a new chapter for Isaac. And maybe, it could be a step towards healing the wounds of the past.
"Alright... be safe coming home, son," I replied.
The night deepened, and the tranquility of Bagan Ajam enveloped me. I watched as the stars filled the sky, their light a stark contrast to the darkness. Chomel settled into my lap, her purring a steady rhythm that matched the crashing waves.
My thoughts drifted to Isaac and Sally. Their journey had been fraught with challenges, but there was a glimmer of hope in the upcoming meeting. I could sense Isaac's apprehension, his longing for closure, and perhaps a fresh start.
Around 9 PM, Isaac, who had arrived home a while ago, was standing at the railing anxiously. His hand tightly held the rails, eyes focused on the pavement. While I and Chomel observed from the rocking chair, I could sense his tension.
"She's here, Dad," he said, his voice tinged with nervousness.
"Invite her up, Isaac," I replied, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll get through this together."
Isaac nodded and went downstairs to meet Sally. Moments later, they both appeared at the entrance of our apartment. Sally looked both anxious and determined as she followed Isaac inside. I greeted her with a warm, albeit slightly strained, smile.
"Good evening, Sally," I said, extending my hand. "Thank you for coming."
"Good evening, Uncle. Em Jay," she replied, shaking my hand. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."
We made our way to the living room, and I gestured for Sally to take a seat. Isaac sat beside her, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. I could see the tension in his posture, but also a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Sally, Isaac," I began, choosing my words carefully. "Tonight is about finding clarity and understanding. We all carry the weight of the past, but it's how we address it that shapes our future."
Sally took a deep breath and began to speak. "Uncle Em Jay, Isaac, I know the past few months have been incredibly difficult. The photos, the break-up... it was all a nightmare. I never wanted any of this to happen. My ex-boyfriend threatened me, and I felt trapped. I should have come to you sooner, but I was scared."
Isaac listened intently, his expression softening as Sally continued. "I love you, Isaac. Despite everything, my feelings for you have never changed. I want to explain everything and, if possible, find a way to move forward."
Isaac nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "Sally, I never stopped caring about you either. The engagement, our time together... it meant a lot to me. But trust is hard to rebuild."
I watched as the two of them navigated this difficult conversation, feeling both proud and hopeful. This was their chance to lay everything on the table, to confront the past and decide on a future.
For a while, the room was filled with their voices, alternating between explanations, apologies, and moments of silence. I stayed with them, offering support and occasionally interjecting with a word of encouragement.
As the conversation drew to a close, there was a sense of tentative peace in the room. Isaac and Sally had taken the first steps towards understanding each other again. It wouldn't be easy, but it was a start.
"I'm glad we talked," Isaac said finally, looking at Sally. "Let's take it one step at a time."
Those words struck me. "Let's take it one step at a time" was exactly what I had said to Clara. It was as if Isaac was unknowingly echoing the advice I had given him, the same words I had used to navigate my own uncertainties.
Sally nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. "One step at a time."
With that, we ended the evening on a hopeful note. As they left, I felt a sense of relief and optimism. The road ahead would be challenging, but they had taken the first crucial steps.
I returned to my rocking chair, Chomel hopping back into my lap. The stars still twinkled overhead, and the waves continued their steady rhythm. As I closed my eyes, I felt a deep sense of gratitude and hope for the future.
The next morning, I woke up early, the sunrise casting a warm glow through the window. Isaac was already up, sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee. His face looked more relaxed, though traces of anxiety lingered.
"Morning, Dad," he greeted me.
"Morning, Isaac," I replied, joining him at the table. "How are you feeling about last night?"
He took a sip of his coffee and sighed. "Relieved, but still a bit anxious. It was good to talk things through with Sally. I feel like we can at least start to rebuild some trust."
I nodded, understanding the complexity of his emotions. "That's a good start, Isaac. Just remember, it's a journey, and it will take time. But I'm proud of you for taking that first step."
Isaac smiled slightly, appreciating the support. "Thanks, Dad. It means a lot."
As the morning progressed, I found myself reflecting on my own journey with Clara. Her presence in my life had become a source of comfort and hope. Perhaps it was time to take another step forward with her, too.
Later that day, I decided to give Clara a call. Her voice on the other end was warm and welcoming.
"Hi, Em Jay," she said. "How are you?"
"I'm good, Clara," I replied. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a walk along the beach later. There's something I'd like to talk to you about."
"That sounds lovely," she said. "I'd be happy to."
As the afternoon sun began to dip, Clara and I met at our usual spot by the beach. The familiar scent of saltwater and the sound of waves crashing against the shore created a peaceful atmosphere.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while before I turned to her. "Clara, there's something I need to share with you. Last night, Isaac met with Sally, and they started to mend their relationship. It reminded me of the advice I once gave him, to take things one step at a time."
Clara listened attentively, her eyes filled with empathy. "And how does that relate to us, Em Jay?" she asked gently.
I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and determination. "I've been thinking a lot about us, about our journey together. I value the time we've spent and the bond we've formed. I want to take things a step further, to explore what our future might look like together."
Clara smiled, her eyes shining with warmth. "I feel the same way, Em Jay. Let's take it one step at a time and see where it leads us."
Relief and happiness washed over me. We continued our walk, the future no longer shrouded in uncertainty but filled with hope and possibilities.
As the sun set, casting a golden hue over the beach, I realized that life's journey was indeed about taking each step with care and courage, embracing the unknown, and cherishing the moments that lead to new beginnings.
One evening, Clara called me unexpectedly. There was a tremor in her voice as she spoke. "Em Jay, I need to talk to you about something important."
Concerned, I asked, "What is it, Clara?"
She hesitated before replying, "I have to return to Kuala Lumpur. There's a family matter that requires my attention."
The words hung in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "When do you have to leave?" I asked, my heart heavy.
"Tomorrow," she said softly. "I don't know how long I'll be gone."
A sense of unease settled over me. The progress we had made, the steps we had taken together—it all seemed to be slipping away. "We'll figure it out, Clara," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "One step at a time, remember?"
"Yes," she whispered. "One step at a time."
As we ended the call, I couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty. The future, once filled with promise, now seemed clouded with doubt. Clara's departure left a void, and I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead.
Over the next few days, I found myself grappling with Clara's sudden departure. Isaac noticed my distraction and one evening, as we sat on the balcony, he asked, "Dad, is everything okay? You seem a bit off lately."
I sighed, looking out at the horizon. "Clara had to leave for Kuala Lumpur. There's a family matter she needs to attend to. I'm just worried about how long she'll be gone."
Isaac nodded thoughtfully. "It's tough, but you both have a strong foundation. You'll get through this."
His words offered some comfort, but the uncertainty lingered. Clara and I stayed in touch through calls and messages, but it wasn't the same as having her by my side.
One weekend, Isaac suggested a trip to Penang Hill. "It might help clear your mind, Dad. Plus, it's been a while since we did something together."
We set off early in the morning, the crisp air invigorating. As we hiked up the hill, memories of Pak Hasan's advice came flooding back. Life is a gift, and we must persevere through hardships.
At the summit, we stood in silence, taking in the breathtaking view. "Thanks for bringing me here, Isaac," I said, feeling a sense of clarity. "It's exactly what I needed."
Isaac smiled. "Anytime, Dad. We're in this together."
The trip to Penang Hill reminded me of the importance of resilience and hope. Despite the uncertainty, I knew that Clara and I would find our way. One step at a time, as we had promised.
As the days turned into weeks, I focused on strengthening my bond with Isaac and reaching out to my other children. It was a slow process, but each conversation brought us closer. The regret of the past was gradually being replaced with a sense of healing and connection.
One evening, as I sat on the balcony, my phone buzzed with a message from Clara. "Miss you, Em Jay. Hoping to be back soon."
A smile tugged at my lips. "Miss you too, Clara. We'll get through this."
The journey was far from over, but I was ready to face it with an open heart. The future, though uncertain, was filled with possibilities. And with Clara, Isaac, and my family by my side, I knew that we would navigate the challenges ahead together.
As the stars twinkled in the night sky, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Life's journey was about taking each step with care and courage, embracing the unknown, and cherishing the moments that led to new beginnings. And with each step, I was becoming more prepared for whatever lay ahead.