Her sobs, though stifled, were quite audible in the quiet of the night as we drove home. I had told myself not to cry as I wanted to be brave for the others but her heart-rending sobs brought tears to my eyes. I was glad it was dark inside the car.
My eldest daughter, Swee Wei, was the one crying. My wife, Sew Chin, and my two other daughters, Siu Wei and Wei Wei, had been unusually quiet. Everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.
We were returning home after sending my eldest son, Kok Choon, off at the Taiping bus station. He was leaving for Singapore to study at one of the universities there. Everyone seemed cheerful at the bus station, even Wei Wei who is closest to him.
But in my heart, I knew that our small family will never be the same again. My son had left the nest and I knew that it was just the beginning. Soon, one by one, his sisters would leave too and my wife and I would be alone again.
I had dreaded this day for a long time. I did not want our tight-knit family to break up but I knew my children have to grow up and go out into the world to find their own niche just as I had a long time ago. (I realize then how my parents must have felt when I left for Kuala Lumpur to further my studies; how my father must have felt as he stood on the platform of the Taiping railway station forlornly waving goodbye as my train pulled away. I was so excited about the new world opening up before me that I did not feel their heartaches).
My dread became more acute when he started Form Six. I knew then that in two short years he would be leaving. As such, I was flabbergasted when, within days after his Form Six exams, he and a few classmates wanted to leave for Singapore to work temporarily. I was hoping that he would spend those few months at home with us but he was so excited about the trip. It was the first time that he had left home for so long and we missed him badly.
The day that Kok Choon was born, I had rushed back from Kuala Terengganu where I was working at that time, to the hospital in Taiping. The fact that I have become a father must have overwhelmed me. I was lost for words as I cradled the small pinkish bundle, wrapped in a towel, in my arms. It was sheer joy.
We spent the next two years in Kuala Terengganu and I can still recall our evening strolls on the beach at Pantai Batu Buruk on weekends and the way he would tear off down the aisles when we went shopping at the only supermarket there.
We watched television together at night and, when he became sleepy, he would climb onto my lap. I would then put my arms around him and he would soon be fast asleep.
After that, we came back to Taiping and he attended nursery school and kindergarten before starting school at Saint George’s Institution. Then it was a blur of sending him for tuition classes and extra-curricular activities, teaching him to cycle, packing him off to holiday camps, worrying when he came home late.
But, he has left the nest now and we cannot look after him anymore. I can only say a silent prayer to god to keep him safe.
My children have all left home. When they were studying, they would come back more often during the holidays but now that they are working, they only come back during the Chinese New Year.
I know that in time to come, they will get married and start their own families. Things will be different then.
My wife and I have got used to being on our own now. What I cannot get used to is saying goodbye after every visit.
Just how do I stop missing them?
