It’s Ching Ming again and my sister rang last week to say she was travelling to Kota Bahru and Malacca to “sweep the graves”. These, of course, belong to the ancestors of her husband’s family and as the daughter –in-law, she has been doing this filial duty for years. I too will be visiting my father-in-law and other members of my husband’s family who have passed on. My brothers and their wives will be visiting my parents and grandparents. My sisters join them sometimes I think, but Ching Ming is traditionally a ritual that the males and their wives attend to.
I have often wondered why I have not gone back to do Ching Ming. It’s not because I don’t care for the people. And it’s not because I am female. In Malaysia, those who have passed on and who are dear to me include my parents and my paternal grandmother. My paternal grandfather passed on when I was a child, and while I remember him to be a doting grandfather who showered me with little treats, time has robbed me of other memories. My grandmother, on the other hand, lived with my family for many years, and I have many fond memories of doing things with her. Grandma was typical of the strong women of the “sei wui” dialect clan who are fiercely independent. She worked almost all her life and we all like to believe that the Cheah girls took after her. We loved her stories and her witty, sometimes bawdy jokes, but told in the “sei wui” dialect, they always sounded innocent to our young ears. Even though she has passed on for more than 20 years, I remember her clearly and fondly. And while I have not visited her grave since, I have always kept the memories of our days together alive by reliving these stories every now and then, and ever so often with my siblings when we get together. We still laugh ourselves silly over some of her witty remarks.
I thought of my parents too, this Ching Ming, while driving past the PIE and watching people burning joss papers at the cemeteries. My dad used to say that once you’re a parent, you’d always worry about your child, regardless of how old you are. I realise now, that as a child, once your parents are gone, you’ll never stop thinking about and missing them, no matter how old you are. Thinking about them makes me cry….
I remember my father in law too, especially when he was in good health. He used to enjoy travelling around by bus and going to the supermarkets to hunt for specials. And he used to bring me some specials every now and then, including his special dish, steamed carrot cake. We had a good relationship although he was not a talkative man. He also got on well with my father, and I remember how my concerned my father was when my father in law became ill. My father travelled to Singapore just to visit him.
I remember my father as a man with a generous spirit. When we were young and poor, this generous spirit was sometimes quite trying to my mum, but in later years, we began to see that he had always been consistent in his beliefs and actions regardless of circumstances. I used to think that I am not like my mum, an unassuming but practical woman, but in my old age, I have come to realise that I am ultimately my mother’s daughter. She and my grandmother are truly the strongest women I have ever known. Ever my father’s daughter, I was especially moved when my mum was unhesitatingly supported my decision to strike out on my own. She always had faith in me while I can only hope that I have not have let her down.
I miss the members of my family who have left us and I also miss my friends who have passed on- V and GS especially. V was always the irrepressible young man full of great ideas and fun. We used to walk home from the old NIE through the Botanic Gardens, and I often joked that I probably walked through the Gardens more times with him than with my dear husband. GS, another down to earth woman who left behind two beautiful daughters and a devoted husband, was one of the motherly women who took me under her wing when I was a young teacher. She too was full of life and energy, but cancer robbed her of this and eventually her life too.
Is it morbid to think of those who have left us? I don’t think so. Thinking of them keeps them alive in our hearts. Thinking of them leaves me sad, it’s true, but it’s better to be sad than to forget. So I don’t make it to the cemetery again this year. But even if I did, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference. The people we love will always remain in our hearts although they are long gone.
Ching Ming is a tradition that should remain with us. It reminds us to pause, even for a while, and remember the people we have loved and lost. I admire and appreciate those who take the trouble to trek to far flung places to visit their dearly departed. But I am also reminded that the best gifts we can give to those we love are our time and our attention. And the best time to do this is when they are with us.
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