Dada Eight

When Dada died I received a telegram from the home in the northern country district. My ma and da would not go to the funeral. They despised him in life and were no different at his death,

‘We will not be hypocritical’ they said. Their note finished, ‘very sincerely yours’.

It might have been a man from another world they were writing about rather than my ma’s father . A full half century since Dada’s traitorous act was nothing to them.  They would not attend his funeral because they feared the stain would remain forever marked on our family.

‘He brought shame down upon us all’ they said.

The old people`s home lies within its name, ‘The Far Star’, eighty kilometres from Kuching. I could get the bus at two o`clock and arrive up there for the evening, stay for the wake and the burial and then set off back to the City the following afternoon.

That way I could attend olences. He`ll no doubt say something the day after tomorrow when he sees me in the full blue dressall the ceremony including the long stretch and be home by tomorrow night. I could also wrangle a little time extra for myself like any Dayak pirate would do. I asked my boss for three days off. He couldn’t say no given the circumstances. But he didn’t seem happy about it.

I even said: “It`s not my fault.”  He did not reply.