To my beloved Ongki – remembering my grandfather, Tun Dr Ahmad Sarji

Ongki and the love of his life, wife Toh Puan Sagiyah Salikin, with the letter writer's daughter, Acelya Iman Sufiz. — Photo provided

Tun Dr Ahmad Sarji Abdul Hamid was a highly regarded figure in the Malaysian civil service and served, among other positions, as the Chief Secretary to the Government (1990-1996). He was 82 when he passed away on Aug 28, 2021.

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"ONGKI tested positive for Covid-19.”

Upon receiving this message at 11.41am on Tuesday, Aug 3, 2021, I remember being in complete shock and disbelief. A million thoughts crossed my mind but never did I think that you would leave us for this reason. Perhaps it was the unwavering belief that you would make it through this cruel illness as you had overcome countless health concerns before, or perhaps it was my brief denial of the fact that your time here on earth was coming to a close. Whatever it was, I had thought of you as invincible although I very well know that if there's anything that's certain in life, it's death.

Since you passed on Aug 28, I have wondered how best to honour a man whose contributions to his country and family would supersede any contribution I have made and hope to continue to make in this world. After spending some quiet time in your beloved study surrounded by books you kept near and dear, I came to the decision to honour you in the best way I knew how: with words.

You were an avid and voracious reader. From as early as I can remember, your nose was always buried in a book. I suppose you are who I attribute my love of reading and words to. You read all kinds of books – from classic scriptures and biographies to the teachings of our Quran and our prophets. Whenever you gave speeches – be it in an official capacity or to our family – you were deliberate yet impactful with your choice of words.

I was told last year that when you heard about my writings and musings on motherhood, you had mentioned to my mother that you wish that I had shared them with you as you would have loved to read them. My greatest regret is that I did not. For someone who has published countless books and delivered hundreds of speeches, I wish that I had taken advantage of the opportunity to discuss writing styles, get to know your favourite writers and receive your feedback on how I can improve my writing.

In your more recent years, you made a conscientious effort to deliver words of advice by preparing and delivering speeches that you would eventually have printed and passed out to us during our family get-togethers. I currently have in my hands the speech from your 82nd birthday dinner celebration with just us grandchildren in tow and am paralysed by the reality that this is the last piece of writing you will ever prepare especially for us.

I would like to believe that words have been your gateway to discovering life, your form of therapy, and your solace. Not only were you a man of your word, you also followed through with purposeful action. It was your concerted, disciplined and unwavering effort of putting words into action that I think prepared you for all the opportunities life had to offer and, eventually, to prepare for what's to come after your time here in dunia (the world) has ended. It’s this trait of yours that I will always revere and hope to emulate in my life.

The past many hours since your passing have been a dream. Despite the deep pain and numbness that my heart feels, I redha (which means to accept everything that has happened wholeheartedly and sincerely) with what God has decreed for you. I am thankful that God loaned you to us for as long as He did.

Although we were blessed to have you with us in this life for close to 83 years, I feel that life was still so short. Your departure is a stark reminder that we have to give life our best shot by serving Allah first and foremost, placing priority and importance on family, and to never forget that we too must prepare ourselves for our eventual death. For that, thank you for imparting your final piece of advice.

I will miss witnessing your cheeky and affectionate jabs at Nyai, the love of your life and our beloved matriarch [Toh Puan Sagiyah Salikin]. I will miss your witty comebacks during our conversations over the kitchen dining table. I will miss looking forward to hearing your pearls of wisdom in the form of well-prepared speeches at our family gatherings. I will miss hearing you purposely mispronounce my daughter’s name with that signature twinkle in your eye and a sly smile. I will miss hearing you call my name to greet me as I walk through the door of your home. I will miss poking my head into your study to be greeted by my favourite view of you poring over a book on your table. I will miss the sight of you in your reading glasses while you go over every inch of our local newspapers on the formal dining table. I will miss your warm embrace as you envelope me in your big bear hug. I will miss breathing in your signature scent as I get enveloped in your hug.

I expect that my grief for you will ebb and flow for the rest of my life. However, as I adopt what I’ve learnt from you in my everyday life and sow the seeds of your teachings in my daughter, I am certain that my love for you will continue to grow.

"Verily we belong to Allah and verily to Him do we return."

We miss and love you so much, Ongki. May we all be reunited with those whom we love in Jannah.

FARAH NABILA AYESHA ABD RAHMAN

Petaling Jaya

The letter writer is Tun Dr Ahmad Sarji’s second granddaughter and third grandchild.