A legacy of love and care

Life is fleeting and fragile, ponders our reader, as he reflects on his father’s life.

IT ALL happened so fast and unexpectedly. One day he was sitting and chatting in his wheelchair, and the next day he developed a high fever and encountered breathing difficulties and an ischemic stroke.

When he was taken to the hospital, he was immediately put in the Red Zone – critical zone.

He was given a gas mask to wear. The doctors asked me to sign some documents and to inform my next of kin.

All that the doctors could do was keep him alive with the gas mask over his face. He was in no condition for any treatment as his lungs were failing him.

I spent the night with him. Tears rolled down my face as I watched him gasping for air. I felt helpless and hopeless.

He was not the kind to give up without a fight. At a time when most of his friends and contemporaries had passed away, my father at 93 was alive and well.

He did everything to lead a healthy and wonderful life. He had no bad habits or health problems. He was never on any medication.

His favourite pastime after retirement was walking – morning and evening. He would walk around Jalan Tok Ungku (Loop Road) and Rahang, in Seremban, and visit the mamak stalls and pasar malam.

He would chat with the people there about the latest news in the neighbourhood and nation.

When he was at home, he was never one to be found napping or lazing around.

He was always on the move, helping someone with an application form or following them to the office to get a job done.

He spent some of his free time gardening. But today, watching him on the hospital bed, he is scarcely the man I remember.

John Samuel Moses, better known as Moses Uncle, was born on 16 Dec 1925 in Tapah, Perak.

Little is known about his family. His father died at our home in the late 1970s. He lost his mother at a very young age.

I do not remember my father having any relatives.

When he married my mum in his late 20s, and she was 16, he regarded my mum’s clan in

Seremban as his family.

He was then working at the Malayan Railways head office in Kuala Lumpur, next to the KL station, as an accounts clerk.

We lived in Sentul, in the Jalan Strachan Railway quarters where KLPAC is now located.

We were a very closely knit family and my father was the sole bread winner.

He was a very strict man, a disciplinarian and a fierce (Arithmetic) teacher.

We, his three sons, were quite naughty and would create a ruckus in the afternoons when my dad was at work.

We had a 29” TV – the pride of the house – sitting on a tall stand. One afternoon, we brought the TV down! It crashed onto the wooden floor, screen first. But, surprisingly, the screen did not shatter.

We were stunned – and we knew that we would be facing all hell and fury upon his return.

When my father came back that evening, he looked at the TV on the floor, then at us (shaking in our pants), lifted the TV and placed it back on the stand – and switched it on. And it worked!

The next day, he positioned each of us at a particular pole in the house and marked our boundaries, and told us to remain at that post until he got back in the evening.

We had a lot of memories of fun and tears growing up in Sentul.

Being the sole breadwinner, whenever pay day came, he would treat us to a Chinese dinner and a bar of chocolate.

On Sundays, as a family, we would all walk from our railway quarters home to St James Church, Sentul, which was within walking distance.

After his retirement at the age of 55, we all moved from Sentul to Seremban, my mum’s kampung.

My father was an independent man.

Though my wife and I were staying with my dad and mum, he never depended on us for transport or financial assistance. He had his government pension and he was contented with his life.

My parents found joy in cooking and organising fellowship meetings in the house. I had my reservations over them organising these functions, which involved a lot of work, and they were not young.

My dad, as well as mum and a pastor uncle, were very involved in meeting and helping people, especially the less fortunate.

Over the years, I saw my father age tremendously. I saw him change from an active, independent man to a weak and dependent man.

He became frail after a fall a few years ago on one of his walks, which greatly affected his mobility. Yet, he insisted on walking on his own with a walker, in the house.

In the last two years of his life, he was mostly sitting in his favourite sofa and reading. My mum was his greatest companion. They talked of old times and watched TV together. He loved comedy. He was a Manchester United fan and knew most of the players’ names.

This year, I made the decision to send him to a nursing centre because he was struggling to move about.

Knowing my father’s character – he did not like to trouble anyone – he accepted his new home. He was happy and well looked after. Mum visited him daily.

All went well until he suddenly developed breathing difficulties.

He was admitted to the hospital on a Thursday night. There was no movement except for his chest moving up and down. His eyes were half open.

He was in the same state throughout Friday and Saturday. I stayed with him throughout the nights while my brothers took turns to be with him during the day.

On Saturday evening, all of us were gathered around his bed when his blood pressure plummeted to 61.

My family members left at 7.30pm. As usual, I was alone with my dad who was by now gasping rather frantically in his gas mask.

I watched him struggling to breathe. A nurse came at 9.30pm and took his pressure. It was 51. The nurse told me that he was slipping away slowly.

I kept my gaze on him, with tears rolling down my face.

Around 11.20pm, my dad breathed his last.

I was not prepared for the loss of life. He leaves behind my mum, three sons and their wives, five grandchildren and one great grandchild.

More than that, he leaves behind a legacy of care, compassion, faith and love.