Yesterday on a Wednesday afternoon, under harsh sunlight, the life of my granduncle (my grandma’s elder brother; Uncle Artie) was robbed when just a little acceleration on the reverse gear lead to him being rammed by a trailer. He was in the driving seat, of course, with his wife by his side and his son and daughter-in-law at the backseat. The four of them set off to go to Putrajaya to settle some legal documents which would entitle them to benefits that were especially for his son and daughter-in-law, both of whom are hearing-impaired. The whole scenario of the four of them being in the same car together sounded a tad too fishy for me because first of all, they weren’t on good terms , Uncle Artie and his son and two, it has everything to do with Uncle Artie’s daughter-in-law. You see, the both of them despised each other and for what reason... only God knows. And besides, it all seems too much like the Bold and Beautiful soap drama that come to think of it, I’d rather not poke my nose in any further than it already is. However, if I may say so, despite the hatred and tension that was in the air when Uncle Artie and his daughter-in-law were under the same roof, Uncle Artie put it behind him and was able to be a father to his son when he needed help. Heck, the man should be given some credit for the good deed he did, even if that good deed was done a few hours before his life was taken away. To say the least, he left in peace. That much we are sure of.
Today, as I didn’t have anything on my agenda, I decided to tag along with Nanny, Grandaunt Dolly, Uncle Bush and Felix to the Putrajaya Hospital. I don’t know what my intensions were, tagging along, because instead of feeling the need to see if Aunt Esther, Jeffrey and his wife were okay, I was hesitant even about stepping foot into the ICU. I don’t like hospitals and neither have I given it much thought to disking them. It’s just that maybe it has been awhile since I ever step foot in one, the last time being about 4 years ago when my Grandpa was admitted in the General Hospital.
This time, I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with emotion nor was I anxious to see if everything was going to be just fine. I didn’t feel the same, although everything else was. There were people occupying every vacant seat in the waiting area, swarming like bees when someone got up for a minute to most probably take a leak; families waiting anxiously for more news about their loved ones; restless children whom were either running around or pulling at their parent’s shirts to attend to them. The sterilized odour every hospital had was the same and so was the disgustingly cold cafeteria food hospitals often had. The only thing that was different was the person lying down on the hospital bed with a tube in her nose and the relationship I had with her. She was Aunty Esther. She is not my grandmother nor is she apart of my intermediate family; she’s the second wife to my late Granduncle Artie – I secretly hope this justifies my undeveloped closeness toward her.
This time, I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with emotion nor was I anxious to see if everything was going to be just fine. I didn’t feel the same, although everything else was. There were people occupying every vacant seat in the waiting area, swarming like bees when someone got up for a minute to most probably take a leak; families waiting anxiously for more news about their loved ones; restless children whom were either running around or pulling at their parent’s shirts to attend to them. The sterilized odour every hospital had was the same and so was the disgustingly cold cafeteria food hospitals often had. The only thing that was different was the person lying down on the hospital bed with a tube in her nose and the relationship I had with her. She was Aunty Esther. She is not my grandmother nor is she apart of my intermediate family; she’s the second wife to my late Granduncle Artie – I secretly hope this justifies my undeveloped closeness toward her.
While everyone else rushed impatiently – rushed meaning, walked faster than the slow pace they’d usually walk at – I excused myself from the crowd of them and buried my face in a book at a dark corner of the waiting room. I didn’t want to go in; I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. So I hid away. Being elderly, they now have an additional tape-recorder characteristic that came along with their coming of age. They broke the record for the number of times they questioned each other about the whole incident, from ‘How did it all happen?’ to ‘What was the race of the driver who drove the trailer?’ It was endless I tell you. I was hoping that it would end by the time we got in the car to head back home but I should have known better.
Before we left to be on our way home, they insisted on making one last important stop – the mortuary. In an instant, I remembered the CSI crime lab where they had a scene in a mortuary but when I entered, it was not as gloomy, dim, or eerie as what we usually see on television. This morgue was brightly lit, however the only creepiness there was the absence of the staff. For a moment, we let our conscience be our guide as we followed the signage on the doors but as our conscience was slowly disappointing us, the staff appeared out of nowhere, helpfully acquiesced to our request to see the body of Granduncle Artie. Once again, like before, as they stood around the 4°C body, I stood away. Even as I stood away at an exceptional distance, I saw enough. There were blood stains blotching up the white cloth that wrapped him; his head was stitched up; and on the left side of his face, it looked like someone had punched him and all the blood vessels had exploded at the same time.
It was so awkward to see him in such a state – a bloody mess, defeated, still, cold, silent – simply because the last I remember seeing him was during a family gathering where he had barged him smiling like a man on a mission. And I hope to always remember him that way.
______________
9/12/11
To be placed side-by-side, Aunt Esther’s coffin arrived shortly later in the evening as the caretakers came, did the necessary, and left. While waiting in line to see the coffins, I was pretty calm and composed... until I set my eyes on the children whose parents were now in both of the coffins before me. Although, they can’t be called ‘children’ anymore – all three married with each a family of their own. But I guess it doesn’t really matter if they were or not, because at the end of the day, they’d have to deal with it... albeit at a snail’s pace.
We leafed through a variety of newspapers as well as scrolled through news’ online websites for articles about the incident and on the Ntv7 website, the headline was ‘Family of four cheats death’. They most probably jinxed it because they only cheated by about a few minutes. In the end, death won the battle and two lives were taken from us. To Nanny, this is all too tragic for her to comprehend and deal with but to Daddy, he saw it as a blessing in disguise. You see, everywhere that man went, she was always a few steps behind him, always never too far from his reach. Even if Aunt Esther had survived – her condition improved and she managed to escape from any post-accident trauma – she would not have been able to carry on surviving without Granduncle Artie.
They were the ultimate couple any marriage would opt for, even after eons of being married to each other. And if they can’t be with us physically, at least they’d still have the rest of their lives to be together up there above the clouds.
R.I.P Uncle Artie and Aunt Esther. The both of you would be missed dearly. Love.
For the article about the incident, click here: Family of Four Cheats Death.
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