|Tok Hussein (left) on the day I left for UK to do A-Levels in September of 1979|
Every once in a while, we tend to recall and remember our departed loved ones. This may grow into a deep sense of longing and a strong feeling of missing them.
The recent incident in Kampong Kepayang when my Emak was hurt by a burglar who broke into our kampong home brought me back memories of Tok Hussein who was the patriarch of the family, the "master of the house" so to speak.
In those days, when Tok Hussein was still around, our kampong home was always safe and secure. Small it might have been, but as far as I can remember it was a blissful and cheery place for us kids.
Tok Hussein is Hussein bin Yaacob, my maternal grandfather.
As I recall, he was a man of slight built, with a fair complexion. And he was a kind man with a very gentle disposition. One could not ask for a more loving grandpa.
When I started schooling, my father sent me away to stay with Tok Hussein and Opah Badariah in Kampong Kepayang, Ipoh so that I could enroll into an English-medium school. So it was Tok Hussein who ferried me to and from school everyday, using his trusted Honda Cub motorcycle.
When I pillion ride with him, I would wrap my arms around his body from behind, press my face into his back and hug him hard so that I would not fall off the bike. To this day, I can still remember the nice smell of his body.
Tok Hussein passed away on 6th September 1980 at the age of 62.