My Ah Gong

This should be written down, with solemnity. I want to remember how I feel today when I grow older. It's about my grandpa's death.

If you read my past blog entry, you'd know a little bit about my grandparents. My grandpa passed away in a fatal accident, when I was at an age where I had no clue what permanent farewell meant. I can't remember when did I first realise I'd never see him again. 

Ah Gong (hokkien for grandpa) was a parking attendant, that was probably why he had such tanned skin, which is still my deepest impression about him hitherto. My parents once brought us to the parking lot he worked at. My brother and I called out for him excitedly when we saw him, and he smiled so widely, waving at us. I never forget that smile. He owned an old bicycle and was very used to getting around town with it.

In the evening of a Christmas eve, Ah Gong passed away on his way back home, riding his bicycle. A heavy vehicle (bus? lorry? not sure) brushed past him, he lost balance and fell. Another vehicle knocked over him. Actual incident was unclear because my dad only heard it from a third person. It was dreadful. Ah Gong had severe internal bleeding, and a big piece of his legs was gone, the bones were visible. 

For so many year, this was my knowledge of Ah Gong's passing, until last night, I had more. 

Last night My dad and I were talking about Ah Gong, he said he remember rushing to the hospital to see Ah Gong for the last time. He saw his legs, his whole body badly injured. I asked if Ah Gong said any last words. 

My dad: "Yes, before he passed out and away, he uttered softly to me, 'jin tnia' (hokkien for very painful)."

"Jin tnia."

My Ah Gong was in pain. The final hours must be so suffering for him. I know it's definitely painful, but coming out from Ah Gong's mouth, I just, cannot, I cannot bear the thought. 

My Ah Gong was in great pain.