This sepia-toned picture shows a young girl, perhaps 7 years old, relaxing on a balcony railing close to her paternal grandfather. A modest-looking house with laundry flapping softly on a line behind them is visible from the balcony. She exudes a sense of unfettered innocence while sporting a lovely white frock with puffed sleeves and sandals hanging off her feet. She rests her chin on her hand, her smile seemingly lost in concentration. Her grandfather, a tall, slender man wearing long slacks and a patterned button-down shirt, is standing next to her. His expression is aged and wise, and his manner is calm. Behind them, the shutters are partly open, suggesting a simple, family-oriented home.
A wave of fragmented recollections sweeps over me as I gaze at this picture. This photograph captures a brief moment with my grandfather, a man whose presence was a soothing constant in my life. He was toothless, and I recall his quiet, calm voice, which was similar to my father's. When we took this picture, he was already in his late 70s, and his life must have been filled with untold stories and quiet strength.
The details have faded over time, but I recall how he used to watch me when I was very small. I can still clearly remember the day he picked me up from kindergarten when I was five years old. He was wearing a cowboy hat that day, which was a small but memorable moment that made me feel honored to walk with him.
When I look at this picture, I realize how much of him I can't remember. Time has erased any meaningful conversations we may have had. He passed away while I was away at boarding school at the age of fourteen. I was shocked to learn of his passing, so I rushed back to my father's longhouse to attend his burial. On that surreal trip back, grief and the realization that I would never have the chance to get to know him better mingled together.
This picture is more than just an image; it's a piece of a narrative that I'm trying to piece together. It makes me think of his silent strength, his influence on my formative years, and the unsaid connection we must have had. I regret not asking him more questions, paying more attention, and preserving more of my recollections. For the time being, this picture is a tribute to a grandfather's affection and a granddaughter's fleeting but treasured memories.
Note: I'm composing a collection of memoir poetry, and this moment with my grandfather is one of them. However, I am unable to share the poem in HIVE since I intend to publish it in a poetry collection over the next couple of years. Wish me luck!
That's it for now. If you read this far, thank you. I appreciate it so much! Kindly give me a follow if you like my content. I mostly write about making art, life musing, and our mundane yet charming family life here in Klang Valley, Malaysia.
Note: All images used belong to me unless stated otherwise.
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