The morning sun cast a golden hue over the beachfront, its rays reflecting off the newly cleaned sand. Today was September 24th, coinciding with the Penang Trash Free Hill 2024 event.
The annual Trash Free Hill was back for its fifth edition since its inception in 2018, aiming to instill awareness about preserving our natural green lung to keep the hill green and clean.
Inspired by this, the Bagan Ajam municipal had taken the initiative to organize a similar event at the beachfront, encouraging locals to participate in plogging and other cleanup activities.
As I sit at Kak Gayah's stall, the familiar surroundings feel like a long-lost friend. I've missed this place during my hospitalization. After two months at home, my health is finally on the upswing.
My recent visit to the hospital brought good news—the doctor gave me the green light to enjoy Nasi Lemak and Kopi O again, though in controlled amounts. I can't help but savor the moment, a plate of Nasi Lemak and a steaming cup of Kopi O in front of me, feeling like a small victory.
The beach looks pristine today, a testament to the hard work of the volunteers. Families and volunteers stroll along the shore, their faces beaming with pride and satisfaction. The sense of community and collective effort is palpable, a reminder of what we can achieve when we come together.
I take a deep breath, the salty sea air filling my lungs, and smile to myself. The morning's activities haven't just rejuvenated the beach; they've given me a renewed appreciation for life and its simple joys.
This moment, sitting here at Kak Gayah's stall, surrounded by the buzz of a community united for a common cause, feels like a gift. And after everything, I realize how precious these small moments of normalcy truly are.
Kak Gayah, noticing my deep thoughts, came and sat with me amidst the bustling crowd at her well-known stall. "How's your health, old man?" She looked straight into my eyes, scanning my face for any sign of lingering illness.
"Thanks to you and all our dear friends who prayed for me, I can eat my favorite Nasi Lemak again," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
"When I got the news that you had collapsed, I was really shocked," Kak Gayah said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her concern touched me deeply. "I walked as fast as I could to your house that night, only to see you being stretchered into the ambulance." She couldn't hold back the tears any longer, wiping them with a tissue from the table.
"The feeling was the same as when Pak Hassan suddenly fell ill at home," she paused, then continued, but I interjected. "Lebai Hassan once told me that if it is not our time yet, we shall survive all the ordeals."
"It is very true, Em Jay," she chided, calming herself "I know you've been through a lot since Sara left you. I was hoping Clara could at least bring some cheer back into your life." I had never doubted her care for me. Decades of friendship had forged us closer than true siblings.
"Thanks, Kak Gayah. Without your family's support all these years, I don't know where I would be," I said, leaning forward and taking her hand, kissing it as a gesture of respect and love practiced by our forefathers.
"But what I will tell you now, I want you to take it slowly. Hold on tight to the teachings of Pak Hassan, will you?" she said, surprising me, but I nodded sincerely.
"Clara and her family, together with her ex-husband, were having dinner here a couple of weeks ago," she said, looking straight into my eyes again. "I could see clearly that the family was cheerful, but Clara wasn't. Her face, her body language, everything told me she was restless." She paused, waiting for my reaction, but I kept silent.
"By heaven's grace, if you both are meant to be together, no matter how high the waves, they will come down and take both of you to the shore. Put your trust in divine will. Let it flow naturally," she said, shedding more tears, unconcerned about the eyes staring at us.
"You are my family, Em Jay. Pak Hassan cared so much about you." With those words, she stood up and left me speechless.
Finishing my coffee, I decided to walk home, waving at Kak Gayah's family without looking at them.
As I walked slowly along the beachfront, the sea breeze and sound of the waves failed to soothe my feelings. The pristine beach did not mirror my emotions right now.
I didn't know which evening Kak Gayah was referring to about Clara and her family's dinner. It was because they were here for about a week. Her daughters were staying in her apartment, while her ex-husband might have been staying in a nearby hotel or somewhere else. I wasn't sure.
What I was sure of was first evening they walked as a family toward the beachfront. I was sitting on my balcony when Clara's laughter alerted me. My eyes followed them all the way until I could no longer trace them. At that moment, I held onto my promise to trust her.
An evening a day later, while Isaac and I were standing on the balcony, doing some physical Tai Chi movements learned from YouTube, Isaac was the first to notice Clara and her family coming out of her SUV with her ex-husband. They went straight to the beachfront. I stopped Isaac from commenting, telling him to respect Clara's privacy.
The next evening, I was standing close to the water's edge, facing the apartment entrance, catching my breath after strolling for almost an hour. Joggers and beachgoers crisscrossed in front of me. Then, I clearly saw Clara and her family heading toward Kak Gayah's stall. I decided to tail them quietly, keeping my distance.
I could hear their laughter, their closeness, the warmth of their interactions. Clara's motherly side was evident with the girls, while her ex-husband, or "papa," held one of the girls' hands, teasing and playful. I followed them until they reached Kak Gayah's stall, then made my way home.
From that moment on, my mind constantly searched for an ideal solution. I weighed my love for Clara against my health, my age, and the reality of Clara's family before me. They needed each other, and Clara was vital to fostering that happiness. Compared to my own happiness, theirs seemed more important.
The next day, Clara messaged me. She told me she was going back to Kuala Lumpur with the girls. "Please trust me, Em Jay. Soon it will be resolved. Miss you so much. Be back very soon." That was the last phrase of her message.
As an old man, one thing that has allowed me to walk through each passing day is patience. The contemplation, the ability to remain rational, has been my anchor. Trust is hard to build, but I do trust Clara. And so, I will wait here patiently, holding onto that trust and the hope that we will be together again soon.
This walk home, with Kak Gayah's voice echoing in my mind and the reality of Clara's family happiness, made my idealistic solution seem unresolved.
Returning from Kak Gayah's stall around midday, I settle into my writing desk, the familiar comfort of my space enveloping me. After taking my medicine, I feel the slight drowsiness that usually follows. Chomel lingers at my feet for a moment before hopping onto the settee to nap.
I open my laptop to check my emails, and one catches my eye—an email from Melly.
Subject: Exciting News and Some Help Needed
Dad,
I hope this email finds you well. I wanted to let you know how much it meant to me to be able to pour my heart out during my last visit. It was a relief to share my feelings with you, and I appreciate your understanding and patience.
I have some exciting news! I've received an offer to further my master's degree in Corporate Management at Curtin University's Sarawak campus. It's an incredible opportunity, and I'm thrilled about it. I'm currently preparing all the necessities for my move and studies.
Attached to this email is a document I need you to fill out and revert back to me as soon as you can. Your support means the world to me, Dad.
Thank you for everything. Love you.
Melly
The email brings a smile to my face. Seeing Melly's happiness and ambition makes me proud. I open the attached document, scanning through it briefly before setting it aside to fill out later. Her excitement is infectious, and I feel a renewed sense of hope and optimism.
As I sit back, my mind drifts to Melly's visit. It was a weekend when she came with Sally. While Sally and Isaac strolled on the beach, Melly and I sat on the balcony. Her face was etched with regret, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The sight of her so distraught tugged at my heartstrings, a poignant reminder of the complexities and pains of family relationships.
"Dad, I shouldn't have said those things," she sobbed, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."
The sincerity in her voice, the vulnerability in her eyes—it all hit me with a wave of paternal love and empathy. I reached out, my heart aching for her. "It's alright, Melly. We all say things we regret. What matters is that we learn from them."
Her confession was a moment of profound connection between us. I saw not just my daughter but a young woman grappling with her emotions, seeking redemption. In that instant, my role as her father felt clearer than ever—to guide, to forgive, to love unconditionally.
Melly, in a way, tried to badmouth Sara, but I stopped her gently. "Melly, your mother did what she thought was best. As her daughter, it's your role to understand and support her."
The wisdom in those words came from years of my own reflections and mistakes. I wanted her to see beyond the hurt, to understand the deeper bonds of family that, despite the pain, held us together.
Melly nodded, agreeing with my relationship with Clara. "I want to meet Clara before I go back to Johor," she said, wiping her tears. There was a softness in her eyes, a glimmer of acceptance and support that touched me deeply.
"Clara's in Kuala Lumpur," I replied. "But I'll give you her number. Be polite, Melly."
She took the number, promising to be respectful. Her willingness to reach out to Clara was a testament to her growth, her maturity. It felt like a significant step forward, not just for her, but for all of us.
That visit had been a turning point for both of us. It felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted, and our bond strengthened. Her willingness to understand and support my relationship with Clara was a sign of her maturity, and now, her excitement about pursuing further studies filled me with pride.
As I reflect on these moments, the sound of the waves crashing outside my window mingles with Chomel's soft purring. The afternoon sun casts a warm glow across the room, and I feel a deep sense of contentment. Despite the challenges, life continues to offer moments of joy and connection. And for those, I am grateful.
The phone next to my laptop buzzes with the incoming message melody. I glance over and see a message from Clara.
Clara: Em Jay love... I'm on my way home. Be there late in the evening. Can't wait to see you. Miss you.
Her message brings a warmth to my heart, a feeling of anticipation and excitement. Clara's return always fills me with a sense of completeness, a reminder that despite the physical distance and the challenges we face, our bond remains strong and unwavering.
I type a quick reply, my fingers dancing over the keyboard with newfound energy.
Me: Can't wait to see you too, Clara. Safe travels. Miss you more.
As I hit send, I lean back in my chair, feeling the familiar comfort of knowing Clara will be here soon. The day ahead suddenly seems brighter, the weight of my earlier thoughts lifting with the promise of her presence.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of activity. I fill out the document Melly needs for her university application, feeling a swell of pride as I think about her future. I prepare a simple dinner, anticipating Clara's arrival. Each moment feels charged with a sense of purpose and connection, a reminder that love and family are the true anchors in life.
As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the room, I find myself glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until Clara arrives. The house feels more alive, more vibrant, with the anticipation of her presence.
Late that evening, the air was cool, and a gentle breeze wafted in from the beachfront, carrying with it the faint scent of saltwater. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore created a soothing backdrop to the quiet hum of the neighborhood.
Isaac had just arrived home from his office and decided to have his takeaway dinner on the balcony. I had already finished mine—a delicious Murtabak he had bought for me, a kind of savory pancake filled with chopped meat and vegetables. The taste lingered on my palate, a comforting reminder of simpler times.
Isaac unpacked his meal, the clatter of containers a familiar and comforting sound. The balcony lights cast a warm glow, illuminating the small space we often shared for our evening meals and conversations. The stars began to twinkle in the clear night sky, and the faint sounds of the ongoing festivities from the beachfront echoed in the distance.
As Isaac settled down to eat, the doorbell rang. Isaac looked at me, curiosity evident on his face. "Aunt Clara," I announced, gesturing for him to greet her. He quickly made his way to the door. I watched from the balcony, anticipation building as I heard the familiar voice.
Isaac opened the door, and there she was—Clara, with a widening smile, her arms open wide. She hugged Isaac, their closeness evident in the warmth of their embrace. It was a sight that filled me with joy and a sense of completeness.
Clara came rushing to meet me, her excitement palpable. I stood up, ready to embrace her, my heart swelling with happiness. Isaac moved his dinner to the left, making space for Clara to sit next to me. He then sat on the floor, content to join our little reunion.
"Isaac, this coming weekend, let's drive to Langkawi," Clara said enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
The suggestion took me by surprise, but it also filled me with a sense of adventure and renewed energy. A trip to Langkawi—a place filled with beautiful memories and new possibilities—sounded like the perfect way to celebrate our togetherness.
Isaac looked at me, a smile spreading across his face. "That sounds like a great idea, Aunt Clara. We could all use a little getaway."
Clara's enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself nodding in agreement. "Yes, let's do it. A trip to Langkawi sounds wonderful."
The thought of traveling together, experiencing new places, and creating fresh memories with Clara and Isaac filled me with a sense of hope and excitement. The evening felt magical, a turning point that promised brighter days ahead.
After finishing dinner, Isaac politely excused himself, leaving Clara and me alone on the balcony. The night air was cool and comforting, and the stars above seemed to shine just a bit brighter. It felt like a perfect moment, a chance for us to reconnect and cherish the time we had together.
Clara moved closer to me, her hand gently resting on mine. "Em Jay, I need to tell you something," she began, her voice soft yet determined. "Hannah, my second daughter, is staying with me for a few weeks. She has a wedding to manage here in Penang."
I nodded, listening intently as she continued. "This trip to Langkawi, I want to introduce you and Isaac to Hannah. I will show her how close we are and what you mean to me. I want her to realize that her mother deserves a happy ending in her life story."
Clara's determination was so deep, her face told it all. The intensity of her resolve shone through her eyes, and I could feel the strength of her conviction. This wasn't just a casual plan; it was a bold step to integrate our lives more fully and openly.
Yet, hearing that this trip was Clara's plan to reveal our relationship to Hannah filled me with a mix of anxiety and hope. The thought of a potential confrontation with Clara's daughter was daunting, but I understood her need to be open and honest with her family.
I wanted to be accepted by them, to be a part of Clara's life in every sense, but the reality of our situation weighed heavily on my mind.
I thought back to the previous evening. Witnessing how important Clara existence in her family. She is the center that pulled each pinnacles to the ground. Perhaps, without her, the family will suffer more than me.
Clara squeezed my hand, sensing my unease. "Em Jay, I know this isn't easy, but we need to do this. I need to show my children that I'm entitled to my happiness. I want them to see the love we share and understand how much you mean to me."
I took a deep breath, trying to push aside my doubts. The words I needed to say felt heavy on my tongue. "I understand, Clara. It's just… I want this to go well. I want Hannah to accept us, to see that we belong together."
Clara's grip on my hand tightened. "We will make her see," she said firmly. "We will show her through our actions and our love. Trust me, Em Jay, this is the right step."
Despite her confidence, a storm of uncertainty brewed within me. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in my chest. What if her children didn't accept us? What if our relationship caused more pain than joy?
My heart ached with the weight of these doubts, and for a moment, I felt like I was suffocating under the pressure.
Clara's determination was unwavering, but my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to believe in the future she envisioned, to trust that our love would conquer all obstacles. Yet another part of me was gripped by fear—fear of rejection, fear of causing a rift in her family, fear of being the reason for her pain.
The rest of the evening was spent talking, reminiscing about the past, and dreaming about the future. Clara's presence was a balm to my soul, her laughter a melody that chased away my fears.
We talked about the trip to Langkawi, about the places we would visit and the memories we hoped to create. But even as I joined in her enthusiasm, a shadow of doubt lingered in the back of my mind.
As the night grew late, we both felt a renewed sense of purpose. The challenges ahead were daunting, but with Clara by my side, I felt ready to face them—or at least, I wanted to believe I was.
The trip to Langkawi was no longer just a getaway; it was a symbol of our commitment to each other and to our future together. Yet, the uncertainty gnawed at me, making it hard to fully embrace the hope that Clara exuded.
Holding Clara close, I whispered, "One step at a time, just like we always said."
She smiled, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "One step at a time, Em Jay. We'll make it through, together."
With that, we ended the evening, feeling hopeful and determined. The path ahead might be filled with uncertainties, but our love and resolve would guide us through. As I watched Clara leave, I felt a sense of peace, knowing that whatever came our way, we would face it together.
Still, the looming confrontation with her children cast a long shadow over my heart, leaving me in a state of quiet turmoil.
Isaac came out from his room the moment Clara left. From the hall he reminded me for the bed time. Was like then, at the same very hall. I reminded him to go to bed.