This morning while preparing breakfast as usual, my hubby told me that my sister in on the line. My grandma, from my late dad's side has passed away this morning 2am Msian time.
Ini Bua, that's what I called my grandma from my Dad's side. "Ini" means grandma in Iban language. I was shocked to hear the news, but not surprised actually, as I know that she has been unwell for a while. I don't know how old she is actually because in the olden days, babies birth are not registered immediately as today's babies are.
I have not seen my Ini Bua for many years now. Perhaps more than 5 years already. It was entirely my fault as I have fallen to usual trappings to let my busy life with family, work and friends hinder me from visiting her more often. Definitely she had deserved more visits from me than those that I have given her. She was not present when we buried our father, her 2nd youngest son, four years ago. Not because she did not want to, but her children did not know how to tell her then about my dad's sudden death. Her health has always fragile and so was her mind, so they only told her much later. She must have had regrets for not being there to bury her own son.
I don't know much about my Ini Bua growing up years. I don't know where she was born, where she grew up, if she had gone to school at all. In fact, I don't really know what her life history was. It is not the usual kind of thing you would talk about those days but now when I think of it, why not? Why should we, the younger generations not make an effort to know our own history. Where are our grandparents born? What kind of childhood did they have? How was being a mother and a wife 50 or 60 years ago? What were their aspirations then?
If I think about it, my Ini Bua and I must have lead very different lives altogether. She probably had lived where she was born all her life. Never been out of Sarawak till her death. My late Aki Bua, her husband died when I was very young. Don't exactly remember when but maybe when I was 10 years old. So she had lived on almost another 35 years after her husband's death. It must have been difficult for her to be alone all those years without her husband by her side.
I feel sad that I am so far away here in the African continent when she died today. I cannot go to her funeral but I would like to visit her grave when I go back. To remind myself of my roots, which I think I am forgetting a little bit. In my mind, she was always my link to my late father, who had surprised me by passing away so soon at the age of 54 years old, before I had the opportunity to spend more time with him.
When someone passes away, they are truly gone. They are not coming back and all your regrets will always be there for years to come. For the things that you have done and have not done. The only thing that remains is the memories that you have of them. Whatever little memories they may be. So for me, I remember my childhood years of coming back to Engkilili to visit my Ini Bua during school holidays. She was a kind and loving woman. She called me "Injil" and was always doing her best to entertain her many grandchildren. Looking for "karikap" - local edible snails, looking for kedondongs, roasting "poli" - lemang and making sticky kuih bulan. I will always have those memories of her.
Ini Bua, sorry I never said it aloud but I love you very much and will always miss you. May God have mercy for your soul.
