it has been more than 10 years since i last saw my Grandma.
i didn't even realize that it had been that long...
until Dad pointed it out to me
on the morning of the 3rd Raya,
before we set out for Kuala Lumpur
- to visit Grandma.
"Do i really have to go?"
"Yes, you should."
for some reason, i stopped going
after Granddad passed away.
...i was 9.
he was a man of few words...
i remember always watching him...
tagging along in his wake wherever he went.
he always spent his mornings reading newspaper
on his favorite chair by the door.
in his usual white sleeveless-shirt and sarong...
sometimes, smoking his pipe...
he would slowly read the newspaper, occasionally stopping,
to take a sip of his black coffee from his
dark-blue mug.
i was always on the floor busying over my coloring books,
while Mom kept hollering in the background for me
to eat breakfast.
my Granddad was a very neat man.
every time he went out,
he was never without his brown-leather shoes,
tailored pants and white-stripped shirt.
i can still remember the smell of his cologne...
funny...after all these years...
my Granddad loved having black coffee with dry biscuits for supper.
he would have them in the kitchen at midnight
when everyone else was sleeping.
i, on the other hand, crept out of bed
as soon as Mom and Dad fell asleep.
at first, i would just peer at him from the opposite side of the table.
not sitting, not moving. not saying anything.
he drank the black coffee hot - steam rising
from the dark-blue mug, visible against the cold night air.
"want some too?"
i simply nodded.
few minutes later,
i sat down beside him - drinking Horlicks and munching away dry biscuits.
although we never said much,
but the silence was always comfortable - never restless nor awkward.
the days that i spent with my Granddad
will always be a part of memory growing up.
and even now, i still think of him
as i sat down for a hot drink at night.
