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Thank you, Dr Craig Eisemann, for introducing me to the attendees. Craig and I have many interests and things in common, not the least that our mothers both lived to 88 years old separated by five months, and that we both became motherless at roughly the same age, separated by three months. Also, both our mothers were only married at the relatively late age of 30.
Hello ladies and gentlemen! Many of you know me as Khai or Khai-Wei (鍾凱維). First, please let me acknowledge your presence and your individual connections with my late mother, Khim. That you have taken the time to join us in celebrating the life of a lady so special and important to many of us right here at this very moment is a testament to your appreciation of these cherished connections with my late mother. I would like to inform you that this eulogy is permanently available on my website at https://soundeagle.wordpress.com/2019/08/31/khai-khim-for-always-and-beyond-goodbye/
Counting back from the day of Khim’s passing to just one day short of fifteen years and nine months ago, my late mother and I, my brother and his family as well as other relatives and friends mourned the departure of my late father, whose funeral was also held here in this chapel in late 2003, though it was very heavily imbued with Buddhist ceremonial activities then.
Now, let us return to the person of our main focus, the person whom many of you have come to call Khim. We are here to confer our love and respect on Khim posthumously. As an aside, let us concentrate on her full name, Khim-Kin Woon (温琴京), for a moment. Does it remind you of anyone? Those of you who have been paying attention to news will soon realize that her full name rhymes uncannily well with that of a South Korean field hockey player and gold medallist, Kim Jong-eun, and more worryingly, with that of the North Korean supreme leader, Kim Jong-un. There is no wonder that my mother’s name alone had caused her to be mistaken for a Korean by some people. I usually informed them that we are Australian by introducing myself and mum as Khai & Khim, given that our pairing is akin to Kath & Kim as depicted in the Australian television situation comedy. Then, wittily mimicking the typical mispronunciation and bogan accent of Kath, I proceeded to break the ice even further whilst simultaneouly attempting to direct those people’s attention away from me so that they would notice even more of Khim who had been stylishly dressed, by promptly uttering “Don’t look at moy, look at mum!”, as the following video demonstrates.
Khai & Khim in Her Tiffany Blue Dress at a Jewellery Shop — Don’t look at moy, look at mum! (14 Aug 2018, 9:15 AM Tuesday)
In delivering this special eulogy, let us entertain some deeper discussions. We may begin by thinking about the following question: “Is Khim, my mother, special?” Whilst I would like to think so, it is a fairly moot point, for I consider both the question and its answer to be perfunctory, if not superficial. To summarily claim that my mother is special, or that I have a special mother, is to offer little or nothing more than a straightforward declaration that I feel special about my mother, let alone the fact that under most circumstances, everyone’s mother is special to them. Rather than being confounded by a rhetorical question or being mired in relativity and subjectivity, we can and should come to a much better understanding of Khim’s specialness through how she had touched our lives, and in how she had interacted with us. Indeed, achieving that understanding is the gist of this eulogy.
Let us start from the most obvious, from that which can be observed and felt through interpersonal communication. As a whole, we can reasonably perceive or conclude that it was Khim’s gentleness and passivity, her unassuming smile and lovable gaze, demure nodding and attentive listening, that has left many favourable impressions on those who met her, whether briefly or regularly.
Now, let us go beyond the surface and the immediacy of face-to-face engagement to consider the social environment and cultural aspects in relation to her interactions with us. Overall, Khim was quite economical with words. This quietness or reticence became more pronounced in her old age, as her ability to remain articulate and coherent waned. Regardless of her age, Khim as an adult was amiable and approachable in public, though she usually waited for others to approach her first. This lack of initiative was mostly due to her shyness and reserved nature. Moreover, as personable as she had been, Khim was never outwardly a pleaser. A social butterfly she never was. Neither was she ever a person who habitually, flippantly or unnecessarily sought attention, approval, devotion or likeableness through sociability or conformity. In most situations, Khim seemed to be faring equally well whether she was the centre of attention or at the fringe of action. Since she was never interested in pushing herself through life with strategic moves or personal agendas, we can safely conclude that her acquiescences and praises as well as her supports and rapports that she had given us, however rare or frequent, were all genuine.
In spite of Khim’s calm and gentle demeanour, she was not untouched by fear or favour. On the side of fear, she loathed and avoided conflicts whenever she could, even when some recurring issues or outstanding problems had been detrimental or unresolved. Ironically, the consistency in her thinking could at times be a trap preventing her from welcoming certain changes. However, such a consistency could also function like a shield protecting her against facile ideas, superficiality and unruly influence.
It is worth noting that Khim tended to see the world or to evaluate certain outcomes from the perspective of the glass being half empty rather than half full. Khim’s veiled pessimism can be attributed to her innate temperament as well as her lifelong limited means. As a corollary, Khim was not easily excitable or tempted. Neither was she particularly driven to seek new excitements. Since Khim was generally unconcerned about selfishly meeting her own needs or mindlessly keeping up with the Joneses, she was able to enmesh herself in activities without undue distractions or unrealistic expectations.
Khai Gifting Khim a White Cat (25 July 2015, 5:46 PM Saturday)
Whilst Khim was not easily excitable or tempted, she could be easily moved to tears, especially when watching some movies and television series, such as Little House on the Prairie, as I observed in the 1970s and early 1980s. Khim was a long-term fan of certain TV stars in sitcoms, such as Lucille Ball in I Love Lucy and Angela Lansbury in Murder, She Wrote. Some television miniseries leaving lasting impressions on Khim included Roots, The Thorn Birds, Shōgun, Centennial, Scarlett, and The Scarlet Pimpernel. Other TV staples, variety shows and primetime serials that she watched with regularity included Donny & Marie, Lassie, The Wild Wild West, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Kung Fu, Charlie’s Angels, Mission Impossible, Fantasy Island, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, Family Ties, The Six Million Dollar Man, The Bionic Woman, The Incredible Hulk, Police Woman, Hotel, The Love Boat, Dallas, and Dynasty, as well as the more recent ones such as Xena: Warrior Princess, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman, Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, The Adventures of Sinbad, Charmed, Heroes, Lost, Prison Break, Sleepy Hollow, Once Upon a Time, Under the Dome, Hawaii Five-O, Vikings, and Chicago Fire.
Unlike her female siblings, and also despite her largely Chinese-educated background, Khim seemed to have developed a considerably large number of interests in Western culture and popular media, all of which were cultivated and nurtured without sacrificing or compromising moral virtues and cultural values that stemmed from her upbringing. In other words, both her physical appearance and her cultural capital were dynamic mixtures and contrasting juxtapositions of the occidental and the oriental, not to mention that she spoke and wrote in several languages, and that she could also fluently converse in multiple Chinese dialects. To that extent, she was ostensibly both multilingual and multicultural, never mind whether she was ever (proven to be) truly Eurasian or biracial. In any case, some of her tastes in, and predilections for, certain western things and trends can be definitely traced to the influences of two of her older male siblings, to whom she was particularly close. From her late English-educated second elder brother (温旭京), she absorbed his liking for Western films and songs; and from her late Chinese-educated fourth elder brother (温墉京), she acquired a fondness for dancing.
As a result, Khim had an enduring penchant for savouring Hollywood movies and Broadway musicals created in the 1930s to 1980s. For instance, Khim’s favourite Hollywood idol was Tyrone Power, whom she contacted and asked for a photo, and whom she lamented to have died too young. Khim loved watching the lead actors in Wuthering Heights, The Wizard of Oz, and Gone with the Wind, all of which are classic movies of 1939. She liked Linda Darnell, Errol Flynn, Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, Eddie Fisher, Charlton Heston, Richard Chamberlain, Cornel Wilde, Robert Conrad, Audrey Hepburn, Irene Dunne, Shirley MacLaine, Leslie Caron, Cyd Charisse, Debbie Reynolds, Deborah Kerr, Yul Brynner, Sabu Dastagir, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, Esther Williams, Ricardo Montalbán, Gary Cooper, Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum, Marlon Brando, Kirk Douglas, Jean Simmons, James Dean, Jack Lemmon, Richard Burton, Paul Newman, Laurence Olivier, Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Merle Oberon, Ingrid Bergman, Kim Novak, James Stewart, Cary Grant, Marlon Brando, Humphrey Bogart, Katharine Hepburn, Bette Davis, David Niven, Henry Fonda, James Mason, Rod Taylor, Barbara Stanwyck, Grace Kelly, Vivien Leigh, Maureen O’Hara, Clark Gable, Shirley Temple, Betty Hutton, Dorothy Lamour, Susan Hayward, Rita Hayworth, Lauren Bacall, Sophia Loren, Ava Gardner, Jennifer Jones, Marilyn Monroe, Liza Minnelli, Barbra Streisand, James Brolin, Natalie Wood, Robert Wagner, Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer, Charlie Chaplin, Danny Kaye, Roger Moore, Omar Sharif, Peter O’Toole, William Holden and Glenn Ford, but not so much John Wayne and Clint Eastwood.
Khim would sometimes recount to me what she could remember about her favourite movie stars in their films as well as their lives. For example, Khim had commented to me over the years on the looks, voice and multiple marriages of Elizabeth Taylor, and in particular, how Taylor, after losing her husband, film producer Mike Todd, to a plane crash, managed to marry her best friend Debbie Reynolds’ husband, Eddie Fisher, by causing the latter to divorce Reynolds, who, quite ironically, had had the good heart to console Taylor after Todd’s untimely demise. As another example, Khim seemed to believe that it was quite possible for an actor to be too beautiful or overly handsome, for she opined that Tony Curtis was so good-looking that he looked more like a woman than a man.
More recent and younger actors whom Khim liked and mentioned included Jane Seymour, Joe Lando, Kevin Sorbo, Christopher Reeve, Robin Williams, Tom Hanks, Kevin Costner, Dustin Hoffman, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, Johnny Depp, Jim Carrey, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Michael J Fox, Eddie Murphy, Will Smith, Dominic Monaghan, Leonardo DiCaprio, Keanu Reeves, Robert Downey Jr, Hugh Jackman, Zachary Quinto, Travis Fimmel and Taylor Kinney. In particular, Khim had long admired Timothy Dalton for his portrayal of James Bond as well as his characterization of Rhett Butler in the sequel to Gone with the Wind, entitled Scarlett, a 1994 American six-hour television miniseries.
Regarding music, on the one hand, Khim adored the songs and sentimental ballads of Sigmund Romberg, Jerome Kern, Henry Mancini, Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen, Cole Porter, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Irwin Berlin, Leonard Bernstein, George Gershwin, Paul Francis Webster, Sammy Fain, Sammy Cahn, Jimmy Webb, Burt Bacharach, Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe, as well as Lorenz Hart, Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II. On the other hand, Khim was enamoured by the singing of Jeanette MacDonald, Nelson Eddy, Mario Lanza, Dick Haymes, Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Eddie Fisher, Matt Monro, Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck, Andy Williams, Pat Boone, Perry Como, Tony Bennett, Dinah Shore, Nat King Cole, Julie Andrews, Judy Garland, Doris Day, Howard Keel, Kathryn Grayson, Shirley Jones, Gordon MacRae, Elvis Presley, Mandy Patinkin, Barbra Streisand, Nana Mouskouri, Olivia Newton-John, Diana Ross, the Carpenters, Julio Iglesias, the Three Tenors, Il Divo, and Andrea Bocelli, many of whom Khim could instantly name or recognise whenever she watched or listened to their respective singings with gusto.
Khim’s favourite musicals and musical films included April Love, Night and Day, Top Hat, Shall We Dance, I Married an Angel, Roberta, Gigi, Gypsy, Oliver!, Show Boat, Oklahoma!, Carousel, South Pacific, The King and I, The Sound of Music, Singin’ in the Rain, The Wizard of Oz, An American in Paris, The Red Shoes, Meet Me in St Louis, The Band Wagon, Annie Get Your Gun, Hello, Dolly!, Evita, Yentl, Mary Poppins, Camelot, Kiss Me, Kate, Calamity Jane, Funny Face, My Fair Lady, West Side Story, Sleeping Beauty, The Phantom of the Opera, Cats, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Cinderella, Fantasia, Pinocchio, Happy Feet, Mulan, The Lion King, Xanadu, and Moulin Rouge!. Khim’s most beloved operettas were none other than The Student Prince, The Desert Song, and The Merry Widow, though she was also very fond of operas such as Carmen and Madama Butterfly.
Periodic musical shows or events that Khim had been willing to be reminded of, and to follow with considerable interest, included the Royal Variety Performance, the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo, the Vienna New Year’s Concert, André Rieu and his Johann Strauss Orchestra, the Eurovision Song Contest, Celtic Woman, Carols by Candlelight, the Australian National Eisteddfod, the Academy Awards (film), the Emmy Awards (television), the Tony Awards (theater and Broadway), the Grammy Awards (music), as well as the Olympic Games, specifically those involving dance and music such as gymnastics, synchronized swimming, figure skating and ice dancing. International reality television competition franchises such as The X-Factor, Idols, The Voice, So You Think You Can Dance, and Dancing with the Stars also attracted Khim’s attention. In particular, Khim had always remembered Anthony Callea, Jessica Mauboy and Guy Sebastian from Australian Idol, and lived long enough to see the last two representing Australia in the Eurovision Song Contest.
As for instrumentals, Khim would always welcome the best of semiclassical, easy listening, ballroom music, light music, mood music, beautiful music, elevator music, Muzak and film music, composed or arranged by the likes of Richard Clayderman, Annunzio Paolo Mantovani, Percy Faith, Geoff Love, Yanni (Yiannis Chryssomallis), James Last, Paul Mauriat, Ferrante & Teicher, Władziu Valentino Liberace, Henry Mancini, Burt Bacharach, John Barry, Michel Legrand, Francis Lai, Alfred Newman, Max Steiner, Michael Masser, Marvin Hamlisch, Paul Williams, Barry Mann, Cynthia Weil, Dave Grusin, David Foster, Quincy Jones, David Shire, Johnny Harris, Nelson Riddle, Ray Conniff, Gordon Jenkins, Mel Tormé, Billy May, Leroy Anderson, Vic Schoen, Roger Williams, Tommy Dorsey, Walter Gross, Robert Russell Bennett, Buddy Bregman, Ernie Freeman, Bert Kaempfert, Louis Clark and Victor Young, as well as those of the Boston Pops Orchestra such as Arthur Fiedler and John Williams. Khim would also readily welcome the discographies of other light music orchestras such as the 101 Strings Orchestra, BBC Radio Orchestra, New World Orchestra and Rio Carnival Orchestra, whose repertoires often comprised in-house arrangements of popular standards. Light orchestral music and film scores that attracted Khim’s attention were those of Albert Ketèlbey, Miklós Rózsa, Richard Addinsell, Eric Coates, Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Charles Williams, Hubert Bath and Angela Morley.
It is noteworthy that Khim would generally be oblivious to the names and contributions of such composers and arrangers, even though she seemed to be instinctively cognizant of, and satisfied by, the overall quality of the music. At best, she would only know or remember a handful of those composers and arrangers if I were to mention their names or to comment on the styles and merits of their compositions, orchestrations or arrangements, let alone their choreographies, screenplays, stage productions or artistic directions when certain works also significantly involved dancing, storytelling, visual presentations or even interactive components. Since Khim was usually more interested in the singers and actors associated with the films and musicals that she already knew and liked, she naturally connected her favourite music and songs to the names of the lead singers or the titles of the musical films, and thus rarely the names of the composers or arrangers. By the same token, the music and songs of ABBA, Elton John, Billy Joel, the Bee Gees, Burt Bacharach, Jimmy Webb, Michael Jackson and so on would have been much more prominently appearing on Khim’s musical radar, had those songwriters also been prominent actors or film stars.
In any case, Khim enjoyed being quizzed by me about song titles, singers’ names, film titles and actors’ names. For instance, I would ask her to name two films in which William Holden and Jennifer Jones starred together. She could name Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing of 1955, but not The Towering Inferno of 1974. On occasions, Khim would reverse the role and be the quizzer, if not the teaser!
Khim had also enjoyed parlour music, pop music, and the less serious form of Western classical music, such as Sir Edward Elgar’s “Salut d’Amour”, as well as the popular French song “Hymne à l’amour” by Édith Piaf and Marguerite Monnot, later adapted into English as “If You Love Me (Really Love Me)” with lyrics by Geoffrey Parsons. The latter always seemed to melt Khim’s heart, causing her to brim with joy. Seeing that the love song had such a lasting and favourable impression on Khim, I bought her about ten years ago in 2009 a Royal Albert musical jewellery box capable of playing the very tune after being wound up manually, in addition to my playing an instrumental rendition of the song for her on the electronic organ from time to time.
The following version of “If You Love Me (Really Love Me)” from the 1973 album Songs from her TV series, as conducted by Peter Knight and sung by Nana Mouskouri in both English and French, is lovingly dedicated to Khim in remembrance of her fondness for this love song and her appreciation of my organ rendition. Accompanying the song in the video are beautiful images of Nature as well as panning still shots from the classic movie Gone with the Wind, one of Khim’s all-time favourite films.
The song title “If You Love Me (Really Love Me)” easily reminds me of “If I Loved You”, a show tune from the 1945 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Carousel. The latter was definitely one of Khim’s all-time favourite tunes, in addition to being one of the very few songs whose lyrics Khim could remember in its entirety. This tune was one that we could happily sing together once in a while, as I also had the option of willingly setting myself the challenge of instantly harmonizing against her vocal part, my accompanying us on the electronic organ notwithstanding.
Whilst Khim could show some interest in the exotic sounds of some world music, relaxation music and ambient music, she was generally indifferent towards rock and roll, rhythm and blues, jazz, funk, disco, soul, rap, hip-hop, experimental music and avant-garde music, even though I had continued to make some good efforts in exposing her to such diverse genres over the years. However, Khim would eventually come to accept and appreciate some disco music, as I continued over the years to expose her to the well-known oeuvres of Geoff Love and Meco (Domenico Monardo) that have been based on the soundtracks of science-fiction movies and TV series such as Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, Logan’s Run, Space 1999, and Star Trek, which Khim had watched and remembered. In addition, I would occasionally play my disco arrangements of her favourite movie soundtracks, including “When You Wish Upon a Star” and “Tammy”, the latter being shown in the video as follows.
In fact, my disco version of “Tammy” originates from the third constituent of a large project, since I had taken the time and artistic liberty during 2004 to create 35 arrangements of “Tammy”, a popular tune that I had played for Khim many times on the electronic organ. The tune was nominated for the 1957 Oscar for Best Original Song after making its debut in the 1957 romantic comedy film Tammy and the Bachelor, starring one of Khim’s favourite actresses, Debbie Reynolds. Each of the 35 arrangements in the project was performed as a separate musical genre, such that Khim could follow the melodic outline of the song no matter how much the music had been stylistically transformed by being arranged in a particular genre. The process can be likened to the formal technique of theme and variations used by many classical and later composers, except that each variation of the theme is in an entirely different musical genre. The project was more or less completed in November 2004, on the first anniversary of her becoming a widow. As shown in the sleeve note below, the resulting 35 variations were recorded onto two compact discs for instant playback.
Furthermore, I had purposely used only the first four lines of the tune (corresponding to the first 16 bars of the melody) as the source material for those variations.
The results of the 35 theme and variations on “Tammy” certainly imparted plenty of musical entertainment cum education for Khim, as well as hours of fun-inducing quiz marathon for some visitors who were invited to guess and name the nearly three dozen genres. On the whole, Khim had comfortably enjoyed those variations created in the genres with which she was familiar, such as waltz, Argentinian tango, polka, big band, jive, bossanova and the like. As mentioned, since Khim liked Johnny Depp, especially in the film series Pirates of the Caribbean, the Caribbean version of “Tammy”, constituting the 24th variation on the tune, is hereby dedicated to Khim as follows.
In contrast, the musical complexity as well as the dramatic transformations of “Tammy” in some of the variations stretched or even strained not just the limits of Khim’s musical appreciation but also the boundaries of the genres themselves, especially hard rock, funk, house, hip-hop, gospel shuffle and the like, which are so remotely related in style and markedly different in instrumentation when they are compared to the gentle ballad that characterizes the original song. Such arrangements of “Tammy”, particularly the more extended and sophisticated ones, were indeed felt to be very novel and musically challenging to Khim, who had far fewer prior experiences in those unfamiliar genres by which to guide and orientate herself. Included herewith for demonstration is the hard rock version of “Tammy”, which constitutes the 8th variation.
Overall, Khim was considerably satisfied and amused by the process of theme and variations, musically skinning “Tammy” in so many ways to tickle her aural imaginations. In a nutshell, Khim had been taken along an extensive, multicultural journey across a series of entertainingly engaging sonic terrains, many of which she would otherwise never or seldom have come across.
To mention a few more examples, Khim’s preferred choices of music composed before the 20th century stayed mainly within the standard repertoires from the Classical era as well as the early and middle Romantic periods. In later years, I managed to stretch her listening repertoires to cover the works of late Romantic composers such as Rachmaninov and Scriabin, many of which she gradually learnt to appreciate nearly as much as those of Tchaikovsky and Chopin, which she had always amply admired. Reaching beyond the Romantic era, the majority of art music, serious music and canonical music of the 20th century would tend to overwhelm or confound Khim’s musical expectation and aesthetic sensibility, especially those compositions crafted with advanced structural and theoretical considerations.
For instance, the works of musical impressionism as spearheaded by Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel from 1890 to 1930 mostly eluded Khim’s comprehension, since their colouristic sound, impressionistic timbre, unwonted texture, layered orchestration, unusual chord combinations, chromatic chords, extended harmonies, harmonic fluidity, ambiguous tonality, melodic fragmentation, parallel motion, modal and exotic scales, as well as extra-musicality and evocative titles, had coalesced to mystify Khim, who at best regarded or lumped them as background music used in films. Nevertheless, Khim was able to enjoy the more accessible musical compositions of the impressionist masters, such as “Clair de Lune”, the third and most famous movement of Debussy’s Suite bergamasque. This suite for solo piano was initially composed around 1890 when the composer was 28 years old, but was significantly revised just before its publication in 1905. Interestingly, “Clair de Lune” had been arranged for organ in the score for the 1956 American epic Western drama film Giant by the Ukrainian-born American film composer and conductor, Dimitri Zinovievich Tiomkin, who received twenty-two Academy Award nominations and won four Oscars, including Best Original Score for the 1952 American Western film High Noon, and Best Original Song for “The Ballad of High Noon”. All of these had long been songs and films favoured by Khim, who had recounted to me over the years what she could remember about her favourite actors Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson and James Dean in Giant as well as Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly in High Noon. For these reasons, I hereby dedicate to Khim my orchestral transcription of “Clair de Lune”, played and recorded by me on the electronic organ. In any case, my introducing this rendition of “Clair de Lune” to Khim in the early 1990s had further enriched the moon-themed and lunar-inspired repertoire that she used to enjoy much and know well, including Henry Mancini’s “Moon River” and the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
At the earlier end of the Western musical canon lies the body of works from the pre-classical period, with which I tempted Khim’s musical palette by performing on the electronic organ the slower and more lyrical pieces by the Baroque composer Bach, such as “Sheep May Safely Graze”, “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”, “Air on the G String”, and “Sinfonia (Arioso) from Cantata BWV 156”, the latter of which is arranged in my own orchestral interpretation and dedicated to Khim as follows.
All in all, it would seem that Khim found herself to be somewhat out on a limb, and that she considered some musical genres to be incomprehensible, unpleasant, unmeaningful or unenjoyable, if her musical experiences were not hitherto bolstered, introduced, accompanied or enhanced by familiar or favourite films, musicals or operettas. That Khim’s focus had been on mostly accessible and enjoyable repertoires throughout her life neither invalidated nor detracted from her musical aptitude and sensibility that she managed to develop in spite of her lack of professional musical training. After all, Khim had indeed flourished and lived vicariously through the appealing artistries and prodigious talents of her favoured singers, actors, musicians and dancers, who satisfied the aesthetic preferences imprinted in Khim during her formative years, and who constituted a large part of Khim’s recreational staples and “comfort food”, insofar as Khim had maintained a special love throughout her adult life for the songs, shows and stars that she had enjoyed and understood as a child, teenager and young adult. In later life, she relived and even enhanced the profound aesthetic experiences that she had acquired in her youth by means of my supporting and complementing Khim during her late middle and old ages. This support and complementation unfolded in the course of our musical journey and our mutual enjoyment of her cherished songs, shows and stars, plus the new ones that I introduced to Khim via my ongoing, varied endeavours in diversifying her aesthetic palettes and media consumption, along with my encouraging and tutoring her to make music on the electronic organ.
It was thus incumbent on me to ensure that Khim had ample music and video materials to select from the home library according to her whim or mood, even though I sometimes spared her the effort of choosing, let alone the technicality of finding and putting them in the music and video players to start enjoying them. In addition, Khim had been given her daily dose of songs from the olden days to relish to her heart’s content via the Crooner Radio online. Apart from Western films and TV series, Khim of course enjoyed watching Chinese and Cantonese movies and serials, including sentimental films and action flicks. Khim would sometimes feel quite nostalgic and might even have a conversation or reminiscence with me about some bygone matters or persons, when or after I played her favourite movies or songs stored on DVDs, compact discs or memory sticks. For example, she particularly treasured the music and songs of Steven Liu Chia-Chang (劉家昌), a former composer, songwriter, lyricist, singer, screenwriter, film director and actor, whom she affectionately regarded as “鬼才”, an uncanny, remarkable genius. Khim would not mind listening daily to his musical oeuvres, which almost invariably lifted her spirit and perked her up, mentally transporting her back to the good times of her youth, and reminding her of the many Chinese movies and actors that she used to watch. How the lyricisms of such Chinese classics and popular songs from the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s captivated Khim can be best exemplified by the solo piano music and light instrumental arrangements of the well-known Singaporean pianist Jimmy Chan (陳占美), which were originally released on analogue cassette tapes in the mid 1980s and later digitally preserved on two compact discs in 2005 for Khim, who, on being so thrilled by and satisfied with the upgraded amenity for savouring her favourite Chinese music on the digital medium that she was willing to copy by hand all of the song titles from the two cassette liner notes to the one CD sleeve note as shown below, which is immediately followed by the three YouTube videos containing respectively Jimmy Chan’s first three piano medleys, played in the order listed in the leftmost column of Khim’s handwritten sleeve note.
The emotional ties and sentimental tugs elicited in Khim by music and movie were highly palpable, vicarious and touching to me, to the extent that they triggered in Khim the sense of joyful remembrance and visceral contentment, which she could thankfully access or achieve via the sounds of music, with or without the images of movie. They represented and constituted a potent nexus of mood elixir, diversion therapy and audiovisual entertainment, in which I routinely indulged Khim, even when she was gravely ill at home or in hospital, so as to soften the reality that many of the things and folks that she treasured had departed, and that she was increasingly facing her very own mortality, albeit never alone and always in my company, right up to the final moments. In concluding the discussion on Khim’s musical journey, I would hereby very much like to dedicate wholeheartedly the following composition of mine to her journey of life as well as music.
Away from the territories of songs and dramas, and far removed from the glitz and glamour of the motion picture industry, Khim had also found firm footing in diverse areas. Documentary films about Nature, animals and plants also interested Khim, especially those narrated by Sir David Attenborough. Apart from those pertaining to music and dance, Khim would readily engage in watching infotainments, educational programmes, variety shows and television series about food, health, cooking, gardening, travelling, jewellery, antiques, culture, history, Egyptology, Mayan archaeology, and the magic of David Copperfield, whom she considered to be a very competent and handsome Houdini of her era.
For current news, Khim would be satisfied with my regular switching on for her those presented on ABC TV as well as the Hong Kong news and Chinese News on SBS TV, plus occasional viewings of news and talk shows delivered on commercial channels. Nonetheless, Khim had often found some investigative journalism and current affairs documentary television programs such as Four Corners, Foreign Correspondent, Insiders, Q&A, Dateline, Lateline, Stateline, Landline, Media Watch, World Watch, Catalyst, Gruen, The Book Club, The Checkout, The Mix, and The Drum to be too in-depth and demanding for her comprehension due to her extant English language barrier.
In recent years, Khim had come to appreciate astronomy and science more than usually ever since she took a very special liking for Brian Cox and his science programmes such as the Wonders of… series, Human Universe and Forces of Nature, even as her memory of the late Carl Sagan and his award-winning 1980 television series Cosmos: A Personal Voyage gradually faded into oblivion. Khim was also keen on viewing and mentioning the ever-active and engaging Chris Brown, a veterinary surgeon, television presenter and author who is best known for the Australian factual television series called Bondi Vet.
Khim usually had a fair amount of appetite for horror films, including Dracula, Frankenstein, The Omen, Poltergeist, Jaws, Gremlins, Ghostbusters, The Addams Family, Godzilla, The Exorcist, The Mummy, Predator, Underworld, and Blade, but not so much Alien, even though we watched this 1979 science-fiction horror film at a cinema when it was premiered in Kuala Lumpur. So eerily scary and suspenseful was the movie that I slept very poorly during that night, my mind reliving those frightful and gory moments.
Suspense thrillers that won Khim over comprised The Day the Earth Stood Still, Taken, The Fugitive, Casino Royale, The Terminator, Die Hard, Entrapment, Phone Booth, Speed, and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle. Khim was particularly impressed by some of the greatest classics of Alfred Hitchcock who was known as the “Master of Suspense”, whose thrillers grabbed Khim’s attention with innovative plots and film techniques, plus many leading actors who were amongst her favourite movie stars. Such films included Spellbound (Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck), Rear Window (James Stewart and Grace Kelly), To Catch a Thief (Cary Grant and Grace Kelly), Vertigo (James Stewart and Kim Novak), North by Northwest (Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint and James Mason), Psycho (Anthony Perkins and Janet Leigh), and The Birds (Rod Taylor and Tippi Hedren).
Spy thrillers had more success in courting Khim, especially Mission Impossible and James Bond, the latter of which also happens to be the longest continually running film series of all time, beginning in 1962 with Dr. No. Khim had never mentioned to me which Bond film(s) she favoured the most, though I could discern from her degree of enthusiasm and frequency of reference that she preferred Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton and Pierce Brosnan to Sean Connery and Daniel Craig, let alone George Lazenby. As far as I know, Khim only ever had one opportunity to experience a Bond film on the big screen, when Never Say Never Again was premiered in 1983 at a cinema in Penang, where it was watched by Khim and I along with some of my uncles, unties and cousins, the youngest of whom chuckled incessantly both during and after the film at what must have been to them an unprecedented level of confronting, gratuitous, raunchy, seductive or suggestive exposure of the human flesh at close range, especially in the revealing scene of Sean Connery massaging Kim Basinger. On the whole, Khim never seemed to be tired of watching the premieres and repeats of the James Bond movies on television. On many occasions, Khim had commented to me on how good-looking and gentlemanly Dalton was, how hairy Brosnan and Connery were, what a flirt and womanizer Connery was, and how Moore suffered aches and pains in his old age due to his physically demanding role in the Bond films. Always heard during the title sequences of Bond films, the theme songs that Khim liked and knew best were, quite strangely, the ones that contain four words in their respective titles, namely, “From Russia with Love”, “The Look of Love”, “Nobody Does It Better”, “You Only Live Twice”, and “For Your Eyes Only”, the first of which she had attempted to play on the electronic organ, the first three of which I had played on the same instrument many times, and the last two of which I had rearranged, reorchestrated and recorded on one of my synthesizers for our enjoyment.
In the science-fiction department, Khim was no slouch or stranger, as she would readily follow TV series such as Heroes, Lost, and Under the Dome, or watch classic movies such as Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Superman, and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, which we were fortunate enough to watch on the big screen when the first two were premiered in 1977, the third in 1978 and the latter in 1982. Khim would come to appreciate the epic film scores of these blockbusters. However, Khim considered many of the more recent sci-fi movies laden with computer-generated imagery (CGI) to be too effects-driven, manic, fast-paced or far-fetched. Nevertheless, she was able to enjoy blockbuster sci-fi movies such as The Matrix, Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Jurassic Park, Planet of the Apes, Men in Black, The Terminator, Total Recall, Back to the Future, I, Robot, Thor, Iron Man, and X-Men. Amusingly, Khim had the odd habit of referring to Hugh Jackman as Human Jack or Jack Human.
There were certain science-fiction sagas that had captured a considerable amount of Khim’s time and interest. In particular, she was very fond of watching the old TV series Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, Lost in Space, Space 1999, Stargate SG-1 and Star Trek, the latter of which is the same age as me, preceding my birth by just 22 days. Amazingly, I discovered that Khim and the two lead actors in Star Trek were all born in the same year and month, whereby Khim is four days older than William Shatner (as Captain Kirk), who in turn is four days older than Leonard Nimoy (as Spock). Now that Khim passed away recently and Leonard did so four and a half years ago, William is the only one alive. Beam Khim up, Kirk! Overall, Khim had continued to watch the two growing older and closer in the Star Trek films and television series, as she herself, the oldest of the three, also accumulated years of memories and interstellar wisdom as she witnessed the original cast of the series enduringly embarking on “the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no one has gone before!”
More importantly, Khim turned me into her silver-screen partner and her home-cinema chaperone, given that very early on, Khim was all too successful in instilling such interests of hers in me without much prompting or encouragement. As a result, she could share and communicate her knowledge and enjoyment of such interests with me more than with anyone else. It is as though Khim was preparing me very far in advance to be her eventual companion when she became a widow such that she could still admire her matinée idols and movie stars whilst having me around to share her excitements, and when necessary or requested, to clarify, explain, interpret or translate for her the conversations and plots of whatever she happened to be watching on TV or DVD.
Recorded on film and later transferred to video on DVD for posterity, like scenes leaping out of a Hollywood storyboard, Khim’s wedding celebrated in a partly traditional Chinese and partly western ceremony was as satisfying and glamorous as she could hope for, not to mention that she wedded someone of her own choosing and to her liking, his also having good looks notwithstanding.
Khim’s Wedding Day (2 April 1961) with Khai’s music “Vintage Dreaming” and “Where The Eagles Fly”
The memorable wedding of Khim and her other significant half was neither a marriage of convenience nor a union based on financial calculus. In Khim, my late father, or anybody for that matter, found and witnessed a beautiful being whose social value and outlook had, in her own ways and through her personality, her consistency and her conviction, both resisted and transcended many of the limits and influences that had been imposed by her gender, racial, educational and socioeconomic backgrounds, and that had been constrained and shaped by the cultural milieus and social circles available to her at the time. Having neither family inheritance nor family business to fall back upon, and having neither the means to receive tertiary education nor the luxury to enter the job market in which many occupations were often heavily reserved for the male population, she relied on her studiousness to ascend to the highest career available to those of her social standing and wealth or lack thereof, by becoming a primary school educator teaching six days a week for 36 years, later also fulfilling her roles as a wife and a mother of two sons. Not to be taken for granted and glossed over in this eulogy, Khim had gone as far as her circumstances and resources allowed, dedicating herself for about three-quarters of her life to many people’s welfare and education, both in school and at home.
In 36 uninterrupted years from 1950 to 1986, and for six days a week, Khim had taught at the following four schools:
Khim had meticuolously documented her school life in one of the four autobiographical projects in the form of an epic 40-page essay entitled “Teaching at School ( )”, in which the very first three paragraphs pertaining to Khim’s earliest experience and overall summary of the fourth and last school are included below. This is then followed by a scanned photo showing all of the 16 teachers of the school in 1975. The excerpt reveals which class and what subjects Khim taught; the number of teachers in school and the headmaster’s good looks, personality and family background; Khim’s relationship and attunement with her students in class and her discerning arrangement for those with good grades to serve as team leaders helping those with poor grades; plus Khim’s account of her numerous teaching duties to be carried out, various homework to be set and marked, as well as the main lessons, exercise books, textbooks and workbooks involved in different subjects; along with how Khim commuted to school and what she found out about her students in the canteen. On the whole, the three paragraphs constitute a fairly concise but intimate recollection of her life as a highly devoted educator and competent mentor as well as a friendly and observant colleague.
I can still vividly recall that Khim and I had to wake up at half past five in the morning to get ready for going to different schools in the 1970s, as I had never attended the school at which Khim taught, for my parents had all along decided to send me to the larger Lai Meng Chinese Primary School (黎明華文小學) located more than one third farther than the distance between her school and home, the annoying traffic jam as well as the bothersome air and noise pollutions coupled with the tropical heat and humidity notwithstanding. Even after returning home from school in the early afternoon, Khim had to make time for doing some house chores and marking her students’ homework and tests as well as preparing lesson plans and documenting curricula before the next day began. Despite having to wade through my heavy loads of homework assigned to me by my school teachers every day except Sunday, I would regularly go through stacks of exercise books that Khim had taken home to mark so that I could read some of her best students’ essays. The two outstanding pupils who had impressed me the most were 黃明鑽 and 李玉梅, who had exceptional writing skills and very attractive handwritings (especially the former), and both of whom I had always remembered fondly and mentioned occasionally to Khim throughout all these years. To what extent Khim had been responsible for (inspiring and contributing to) the achievements of such brilliant students cannot be determined, since I had never met those students and had hardly ever witnessed how Khim taught in school, even at the best of rare opportunities. Nevertheless, I can attest to the fact that the standards of the two abovementioned students’ essays and other homework had far exceeded what was considered to be highly satisfactory, never mind the average. Perhaps one could indeed link my having been exposed to such brilliant achievements at such an early age to my ongoing attention to seeking improvement and maintaining excellence in my own writings as well as those of my former students at universities. Such were the influences and legacies of Khim as a teacher (and mother), whether directly and intentionally or not.
As a long-term educator devoted to her profession since 1950, Khim retired in mid March 1986 from teaching, leaving many students as well as teachers a lasting legacy stretching over 36 years, having taught the majority of school subjects, including Chinese, civics, science, maths, history, geography, arts and physical education, except Malay, English and music. On Sunday, 12 October 2008, Wei Fen Zhang, the former deputy headmaster of Khim’s former school (中華女校前任副校長張偉芬) — one of Khim’s most beloved younger fellow teachers who blogs by the name of 窗户之歌 — wrote as follows in a heartfelt post entitled “痛击” about the often unspoken challenge, sacrifice and dedication of being a teacher, especially the honourable and stalwart kind that Khim had never ceased to be even beyond retirement.
Chung Hua Primary School Alumni Association
中華女校校友會 校友回校日 (9 Dec 2018)
Khim (温琴京) can be seen at 28:21 and 30:01
Despite being limited in her means, Khim had been prodigiously generous and protractedly unstinting, especially in the case of providing for her own mother. Whilst staying and teaching in George Town, Penang, from the late 1940s to the early 1960s, Khim’s monthly allowance to her mother (陳瑾蘭) who stayed with Khim’s fourth elder brother (温墉京) always amounted to half of her monthly salary. Being one of the eldest sisters, Khim and her fourth brother during much of the same period also supported their younger siblings as they all stayed together in one rented house on 70 Kinta Lane (根打冷巷) from 1937 to 1955, then in a rented two-bedroom top floor of a corner house that used to be a coffee shop on Irvin Road (愛民路) from 1955 to 1957, and finally in a rented two-storey three-bedroom semi-detached vintage house built in 1934 on 16 Phuah Hin Leong Road (潘興隆路), where Khim’s mother would live out the rest of her life. The interior and exterior of the house as it was on 2nd April 1961 can be seen in the video entitled Khim’s Wedding Day. After our whole family moved to Kuala Lumpur, Selangor in December 1967, Khim still gave away a quarter of her salary to her mother on a monthly basis, and continued to provide an allowance even long after her mother passed away at the age of 99, stopping only when her fourth brother passed away at the age of 82.
Every year between 1968 and 1984, Khim and I would return to Penang and stay for about three to four weeks (out of the seven weeks of end-of-year school holiday period) with her mother and our closest relatives in the said house at 16 Phuah Hin Leong Road, plus very occasional shorter visits during certain end-of-term school holidays. Each bus trip would take about eight hours, departing from Kuala Lumpur in early morning around half past eight or nine o’clock, stopping for 10 minutes for morning recess, 40 minutes in Ipoh for lunch, another 10 minutes for afternoon recess, and arriving at Butterworth in late afternoon around half past four or five o’clock. We would be greeted by Khim’s fourth brother who would bring along his two children, space permitting in his good old Volkswagen Beetle. He would drive us to the ferry terminal to await one of the roll-on/roll-off double-deck ferries that could carry both passengers and automobiles across the Penang Strait, which required 15 to 20 minutes to traverse by ferry to arrive at the shore of Penang, plus about a quarter or a third of an hour to reach the destination where we would be cheerfully greeted by relatives in high spirits. I had been the only one accompanying Khim on all those trips in those 17 years, as my brother skipped certain trips and also later moved to Khim’s eldest sister’s household in Penang to complete his last few years of high school education and matriculation programme, and as my late father had to work, sometimes even at interstate locations. Whenever my late father could afford time for the trip, we would travel more or less the same route in the family car. Sometimes he would have to cut the trip short and return home by car for work after a week or two, leaving us to take the bus home later. The return journey from Penang to Kuala Lumpur would essentially be the reverse of the sequence of events described earlier. As the following map shows, the travelling time has been halved by the inaugurations of the 13.5-kilometre Penang Bridge in 1985 and the North–South Expressway northern route in the early 1990s, neither of which I have ever used since I left Malaysia in 1985 to study in Australia.
Though very enjoyable and eventful, each trip to Penang always ended in our sobbing and departing with acute sadness, unavoidably prompted by the most heart-wrenching crying of Khim’s late mother (陳瑾蘭) who sorrowfully delivered the same farewell speech and solid handshakes to Khim and I year after year, and also by our reluctant acceptance that we had to wait yet another year for the highly coveted reunion to eventuate. All in all, those holidays spent with our relatives in Penang not only constituted some of the happiest and most nostalgic times in our lives, but also provided us with an extended family life as a sharp relief from the humdrum of our nuclear family life back in Kuala Lumpur. During those years, both Khim and I had also corresponded quite frequently and devotedly with some of those relatives through writing letters, as conversing or catching up with them via making interstate phone calls was then prohibitively expensive and thus impractical. That house had continued to be the hub of numerous gatherings and reunions for my maternal relatives and cousins from 1957 to late 1990s or early 2000s. As shown below in the dynamic Google street view taken in December 2013, the house has since been converted as early as 2008 from a colonial link house into a guesthouse and cafe called Reflection Guest House, located just a stone’s throw away from George Town, the capital, which was inscribed as a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Site in 2008 on the bases that it emerges out of multicultural trading forged from the mercantile and exchanges of Malay, Chinese and Indian cultures and the British colonial power; that its multicultural heritage is expressed through the great variety of religious buildings of multiple faiths, ethnic quarters, languages, festivals, dances, costumes, art, music, food and daily living; and that it reflects a mixture of influences that created a unique architecture, culture and townscape without parallel anywhere in East and Southeast Asia, as exemplified by its exceptional range of shophouses and townhouses.
The street view of 16 Phuah Hin Leong Road (潘興隆路), taken in December 2013.
Top Photo Back Row: 黃福鎮 董炳南 熊美麗 温美京 鍾廷勤 温穆京
Front Row: 温菊京 温燕京 温寶京 温兆京 温墉京 温琴京 廖玉枝
Viewing the two photos above and the other two below this paragraph and reading their respective captions, one can come to realize that the love and closeness between Khim and her mother had also been symbolically enacted and spatially encapsulated by their enlarged studio photos being hung on the opposite walls at the same height and illuminated by lamps of the same make, such that the two of them had been figuratively accompanying and watching each other face-to-face across the living room for about four decades, even though they had to live apart most of the time since the end of 1967. This photographic resonance had been mirrored by the filial deeds of Khim, who had successfully and consistently prevented the physical separation imposed by the circumstances in her life from diluting her ongoing expressions of love and devotion towards her mother in the form of annual visits, monthly monetary supports and regular mailed letters, even though the separation had indeed prevented Khim from physically caring for her mother. Whilst I had the chance, pleasure and honour to provide complete long-term full-time care in person for Khim in her old age, I had never failed to be deeply touched by Khim reminiscing about her mother, and by Khim intimating to me in tears that she could not be there to contribute in-home palliative care and to improve the quality of life for her own mother whose advanced frailty and senile dementia had robbed her mother of autonomy, dignity and happiness throughout the final years of her mother’s life from the late 1980s to the early 1990s.
The photo on the left shows Khim standing next to her studio portrait at 16 Phuah Hin Leong Road, Penang (circa 1957 or later).
When Khim, her mother and siblings were living on Irvin Road (愛民路) from 1955 to 1957, her fourth brother (温墉京) and his friends jointly opened a photo studio called Jazz Photo Studio (爵士影室) at 11 Gladstone Road, Penang, where Khim and her sister (温燕京) had two or three photography sessions, one of which produced the photo on the right, which her fourth brother enlarged and hand-coloured, as colour photos were not yet readily available. He hung this enlarged photo of Khim and the one of Khim’s mother as seen in the preceding paired photos under the corresponding lamps of identical design on the opposite walls of the living room of the abovementioned rented house at 16 Phuah Hin Leong Road, Penang. The following is Khim’s account extracted from her long essay entitled “Family Stories ( )”.
Khim survived her beloved mother by 27 years, 3 months and 12 days, during which she had privately revealed to me many times and painfully cried over what she had firmly considered to be the indifference, negligence, maltreatment, rudeness or meanness of certain individuals towards her aging mother, no matter how uninformed, unaware or unspoken others might have been regarding those incidents. So decent and caring Khim had been towards her mother both in the latter’s life and death that Khim’s emotional revelation to me about one or more of those incidents involving unfavourable, unjustifiable or unbecoming behaviour towards her infirm and vulnerable mother would invariably immerse Khim in pangs of sorrow, as I myself also descended into low spirits as a result of empathizing with her and remembering my maternal grandmother. For 27 years, Khim’s memory of her departed mother was as alive as ever, both in good and bad times. Nearly 20 years after her mother’s passing, Khim was so prolific in recalling various stories concerning her mother that the former referred to the latter with the words 母親 (meaning mother in Chinese) more than 300 times in the 106-page, 51883-word magnum opus entitled “Family Stories ( )”, which Khim commenced in 2009 and largely completed in 2011. Near the end of Khim’s life, when she was in terminal decline and feeble condition, upon my request, she could still recite to me the Hakka nursery rhymes that she learnt from her mother in the former’s childhood, as the following video shows. The longest one is stylishly included herewith for posterity, in remembrance of both Khim and her mother. Khim can also be seen reciting the nursery rhymes in the video entitled Khai & Khim celebrating her 87th birthday.
Khim reciting Hakka nursery rhymes and Tang dynasty poems at the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital emergency room where she was treated for a superficial head injury caused by a sudden fall, and was discharged in 10 hours (2 Jan 2019, 9:33 PM Wednesday)
Khim’s recitation would have been typically more fluent and accurate.
Khim’s humanity and virtue as expressed by her unremitting sense of love and sacrifice as well as her degree of filial piety and family devotion can also be amply demonstrated by the two inspirational idioms and one educational poem that she included with explanations in her following writing, which she specifically signed as a mother (母字, literally meaning “mother’s words”) on 12 Dec 2011. Though the writing was meant to be read by her child(ren), its moral values and relational implications are so universal, far-reaching and benevolent that they are broadly applicable to any human being who wishes or intends to live a principled and virtuous life.
In Malaya (the former name of Peninsular Malaysia before independence), Khim’s parents spawned ten children in equal proportion of gender between 1920 and 1936. In late 2019, all of her female siblings except Khim are still alive and reasonably healthy. Judging by the five sisters’ temperament and appearance, there has always been the consensus that Khim is the sweetest, gentlest, kindest and prettiest. Of the five, she was second in seniority. The eldest is eleven years older, soon to become a centenarian.
A cousin of mine once mentioned that Khim’s good looks were those of one in a million. From a very young age, Khim had always appeared to be a person of mixed race, sometimes looking more European than even a true Eurasian. So far, no one has been able to ascertain as to whether there was any trace of Caucasian on Khim’s maternal side of the family. The best account so far of the alleged infusion of foreign blood is that Khim’s six-year old maternal grandfather who migrated with his father from California to China had a tall stature and fair complexion, as recounted by Khim’s mother. However, there is still no one who knows with certainty whether Khim’s maternal grandfather was indeed Caucasian, Eurasian or Asian. Whilst pursuing family history and genetic profiling may shed light on Khim’s atypical looks, I have not yet entertained any detailed genealogical research nor deployed genetic tracing of her ancestry to resolve this mystery, though my having four locks of her hair could potentially provide some answers in the future through science.
Khim’s Caucasian-like features might have even resulted in, or been related to, my having brown hair as a child until the age of five or six, my being called various names in high school, and my being the tallest amongst cousins and uncles. Khim and an aunt of mine joked at times that my mixed-race appearance was the result of my being born a jaundice baby and given blood transfusion from a Caucasian donor, and at other times that I was found abandoned in a bin and adopted by my parents. In view of my looking like a Western child, Khim’s second elder brother (温旭京) was even questioned by his friends as to whether Khim had married a Caucasian, when interracial marriages were still quite rare if not tabooed then. For many years right up to the present, I have been often deemed to be a person of mixed race or even as a Caucasian, especially in Chinatown and other suburbs heavily populated by Asians. On numerous occasions, when I walked into certain Chinese or Asian shops offering goods or services, some of the workers, merchants, retailers or salespersons there would be quite surprised if I were to speak in Mandarin or Cantonese, for they had not anticipated that someone having such degree of interracial or Caucasian features could have an excellent command of their mother tongue or Chinese dialect. Once, as I entered a shop selling antique reproductions and porcelain wares, the eldest Chinese guy who appeared to be the shop owner said to one of his shop assistants in Mandarin, “You go and deal with this white fellow in English.” On a fine day in the early 2010s, at the Abbey Medieval Festival in Caboolture, North Brisbane, I asked a few folks out of curiosity what they considered my racial or cultural origin to be, whereupon they mistook me to be a Jordanian, much to my surprise and amusement. Admittedly, their conclusion, largely based on my appearance (and perhaps my accent), could have also been influenced by the fact that I was wearing what seemed to be an ethnic hat with a very long and draping tassel attached to the top.
Needless to say, Khim’s seemingly interracial appearance had garnered many compliments as well as confusions over the years, and twice nearly cost her freedom, or potentially her very life. During the second world war, around the end of 1941 or the start of 1942, one of the occupying Japanese soldiers confronted and asked the then ten-year-old Khim who happened to be playing outdoors, “Chinese ka? English ka?”, whereupon her neighbour promptly replied to the soldier, “Chinese.” The same sort of interrogation later happened again when Khim was at the entrance of a Chinese pharmacy. Had the Japanese soldiers not believed Khim, she would have been sent to an internment camp as an enemy alien, her life thus taking a dramatic and tragic turn. Even when Khim was much younger than ten years old, at about four or five years of age, a particular adult, who was one of her father’s friends visiting her father’s small orchard to eat the ripened rambutans and take the surplus home for later consumption, would tease Khim for looking like a Westerner and call her a white girl (紅毛妹) whilst pinching her nose with his fingers, grabbing her head with both hands and lifting her up. After the uncomfortable experience, Khim would avoid encountering that person for fear of being teased by him again. She professed that had she known self-defence, the bully would deserve a good kick from her. A year or two later, when Khim lived on 70 Kinta Lane (根打冷巷) from 1937 onwards, the owner of the grocery store there called her the white kid (紅毛仔). No wonder the Japanese soldiers mistakenly recognized her as white in the early 1940s. It should be noted that Khim never possessed red hair even though the literal translation for the Chinese words 紅毛 is red hair, which is an umbrella term for a white person or a Caucasian. Coincidentally, the rambutan, an edible fruit native to Malaysia, is called 紅毛丹 in Chinese, literally meaning red hair pellet.
Even more importantly, Khim’s looks was also the very key to her meeting her life partner. At the age of sixteen in 1947, she was the very student in her school chosen for the lead role to perform as the Swan🦢Princess in a drama similar to Tchaikovsky’s Ballet “Swan Lake”, to be a part of the fete to fund the school.
Khim later repeated the same performance at my late father’s high school, where he was standing guard as a member of the St John ambulance team, and where he first laid eyes on Khim. Their marriage took place 14 years later, during which no other suitors were ever successful in courting Khim and catching her heart.
Let us dive into more detail. After that performance, the Swan🦢Princess was not destined to truly meet and really know her Prince🕺Charming until they were brought together by serendipity at another chance encounter eight years into the future. On that fateful day prior to Khim’s birthday in 1955, Khim and her younger sister Yean Kin Woon (温燕京) were paying another regular visit to their eldest sister (温寶京). On their return trip, they boarded the bus and sat on the seat behind the bus steps. Khim saw by chance a young man sitting in front of the bus steps. Impressed by the attractive aspect of his hair, she uttered, “Look, that person’s hair is beautiful.” Her sister listened and then told Khim to speak quietly so as to prevent the other person from hearing her. Khim promptly kept quiet and said nothing else. Soon, when the bus arrived at the front of an Indian temple, the two sisters dismounted.
Not long after, on one fine day, a young man suddenly appeared at where Khim lived and told her that he would like to find her sister. Khim looked at him and thought that he seemed to be the person whom she saw on the bus that day. He then introduced himself as 鍾廷勤 to Khim and mentioned where he currently worked, thus setting their slow-burning romance and the rest of their lives in motion. Khim later learnt from him that there was also another fateful coincidence: when Khim’s abovementioned sister Yean Kin (燕京) was working as a temporary teacher in Ipoh, Perak, unbeknown to her, she filled the very teaching position that he had vacated earlier after teaching there for two years and deciding to seek a new line of work back in George Town, Penang.
Since the introduction, it was to take six more years before the wedding bells rang. Regardless of the nature of those coincidences and chance meetings, Khim had since marvelled at my late father’s resourcefullness to locate her (and her sister) so that he could formally introduce himself to the Swan🦢Princess whom he first saw eight years earlier and still remembered. Moreover, there seemed to be the parallel contrast or ying-and-yang complementarity between my father and my mother in how they first viewed each other, insofar as he was silently impressed by her beauty whilst she danced with others on the stage in 1947, and she was volubly attracted by his head of hair whilst he sat by himself motionlessly on the bus in 1955.
On the whole, Khim had chosen her life partner wisely and patiently, turning down many suitors, including those who were far more affluent than her Prince🕺Charming ever was. In other words, Khim had purposely forgone the opportunity of finding a financially rich husband to support her, as she put moral character above material wealth, regardless of her partner’s apparent social status. To that end, Khim valued and evaluated her partner by a standard of virtue commensurate with her upbringing and worldview without compromising her social values.
Khim’s Wedding Day (2 April 1961) with Khai’s music “Vintage Dreaming” and “Where The Eagles Fly”
Indeed, as the Swan🦢Princess, Khim had faithfully paired for life with her chosen partner who had also chosen her to be the one and only. They lived happily ever after in Malaysia and then Australia for 42 years, 7 months and 21 days, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.
Originating from page 80 of her 106-page, 51883-word magnum opus entitled “Family Stories ( )”, the first extract below contains Khim’s own account of the significant matters and events related to her wedding.
Originating from pages 16 and 17 of her 23-page, 12048-word autobiography entitled Khim’s Wedding Day., the second extract below contains Khim’s own account of her wedding preparations, wedding ceremony and honeymoon, many details of which correspond quite accurately to those in the video entitled
Khim was never a person who would willingly and overtly show her emotional vulnerability to the public even at her late husband’s deathbed and funeral. Nevertheless, Khim had trusted me long enough that she could drop all her guard and reveal her raw emotion and deep trauma to such an extent that I clearly remember how devastated Khim felt when she first became a widow. Mired by the sheer enormity and stark reality of no longer having her beloved one around, Khim finally lost all of her stoic resistance and slipped into deep melancholy and utter despondency, even verging on shock and amnesia, as I alone approached even closer to console her, who had then plopped herself down on the toilet seat as she collapsed emotionally in the en suite bathroom, visibly paralysed by the grievous loss of her life partner to a drawn-out illness. It took a while before Khim could be comfortably escorted by me to the living room.
In time, Khim recovered and gained the perspective of time and her place in the larger scheme of things. On the same day every year, Khim and I commemorated his passing in front of his large portrait photograph with offerings and speeches recounting some of the significant family events and histories. Fortunately, there had always been numerous photos with which Khim and I could reminisce about the old times. As Khim aged and increasingly found retrieving photo albums and flipping through their leaflets to be taxing and tiring, I had, over the course of about one and a half decades, carefully selected and decoratively framed dozens of the best photos, including the following three, to hang on walls, place on bookshelves and exhibit in display cabinets, so that Khim could enjoy seeing those photos wherever she happened to be at home, even including the convenient luxury of her having the vantage point and comfort of sitting on the sofa and turning her head in various directions to browse around.
Setting aside the unfortunate fact that Khim was the second one in all of her siblings to be widowed (whilst noting here that the first being her eldest brother who lost his wife to heart disease on Christmas day in 1976), it is not commonly known that Khim differed from her sisters in one significant way that ultimately hastened her physical decline and compressed her twilight years. The endearing distinctness and positive attributes that Khim carried with her seemed to have come with a cost, for in the genetic lottery, nature can also create deficits, which in my mother, had manifested as having a weaker constitution compared to those of her female siblings. Whilst Khim had been blessed with being born with appealing interracial features, she did not seem to have inherited fitness-conferring cross-bred genes, considering that her health had not exhibited much evidence of benefiting from heterosis, hybrid vigour or outbreeding enhancement. This was collaborated by Khim’s own account of her fitness and physicality. For example, she was all along aware of her subpar condition, having intimated to me that she could never match her siblings in strength, speed and endurance, that she would always be the one to pant and run out of steam first. By extension, I wonder how much or what proportion of Khim’s gentle temperament and sweet nature can be correlated or attributed to her congenital delicacy, to the extent that she lacked the extra robustness and vitality to be more feisty and assertive in her temperament.
As Khim aged, those physical deficits began to affect her memory, intellect, mobility and quality of life, and eventually spawned comorbidities and complications, which she had borne with acceptance, if not insouciance. In spite of Khim being given the benefits of Tai Chi, acupuncture, regular exercises, physiotherapy, supplements, medications, hospitalizations, as well as all of the care, love and attention that I could muster, she slipped inexorably into frailty and senescence, against my hope for her recovery and her will to live.
Although many people had complimented the octogenarian Khim on her appearance, especially her overall beauty, wrinkle-free countenance, noticeably slim and curvy figure, and looking relatively young for her age, some folks had also noted her frailty as early as a decade before her passing. For instance, after taking Khim for a walk at a nearby parkland in July 2010, a family friend commented to me that Khim’s looks were those of someone in their 60s, but her gait was that of somebody in their 70s. Khim had had to contend with her declining ability to locomote unaided and the necessity of relying on a rollator, not to mention her increased risk and incidence of falling. In any case, Khim was very fortunate to have never suffered from any severe or long-term injury, even though she had lost her balance and hit the ground numerous times, often with little or no warning, even as careful and vigilant as both of us had tried to be. One of the falls resulted in Khim being admitted to the emergency department of the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital in the early evening of 2 Jan 2019, and then discharged just ten hours later in the early morning of the next day, since her head injury was only superficial even though it swelled to the size of a ping-pong ball but quickly subsided, as can be seen in the video entitled Khim Reciting Hakka Nursery Rhymes. It is no wonder that Khim herself was all too conscious of the fact that age had not been gracious enough to sit lightly on her during the final decade of her life.
In the last two or three years, Khim encountered greater challenges in grasping the logic and intricacies of the more nuanced conversations and storylines, whether in real life, TV shows or movies, and thus compensated by watching a larger portion of action films with simpler plots and relatively straightforward dialogues. The results from Khim taking diagnostic adjuncts and screening devices such as the Rowland Universal Dementia Assessment Scale (RUDAS) and the Mini-Mental State Examination (MMSE) or Folstein test had indicated a mild cognitive impairment in relation to registration (repeating named prompts), attention and calculation, recall, language, ability to follow simple commands, and orientation to time and place. According to Khim’s general physician and geriatrician, the cause of her cognitive difficulties and gait disturbance was cerebrovascular disease, the ultimate effects of which could have been just as debilitating as those of a neurodegenerative process like senile dementia, had she indeed survived to be (nearly) as old as her mother who lived one-eighth longer.
However, Khim could be considered to be much more fortunate than her mother with respect to quality of life, to the extent that I had been ensuring that Khim could continue to walk and move about as best as circumstances would allow her, whether physically assisted or not, even in the face of her (suffering from) incontinence, gait disturbance and pressure wounds. My researching, liaising and working with physiotherapists and occupational therapists regarding the physical welfare of Khim had built confidence and resilience through the processes of adjusting to, mediating and ameliorating deteriorations and deficits brought by senility. In particular, I sought to provide the means for Khim to locomote with different types of rollator depending on the occasion and whether she was indoors or outdoors. Moreover, whenever Khim was too feeble or not in the mood to walk with a rollator, I would sit Khim down in one that could double as a wheelchair so that I could still take her out and about on any day to enjoy times and places away from home.
The manner in which Khim went walkabout with me in a shopping centre can be observed in the video dated 14 Aug 2018, 9:15 AM Tuesday and named Khai & Khim at a Jewellery Shop, where she was strolling and browsing with a rollator, also called a four-wheel pusher. In another video named Khim wearing a hat made for Mother’s Day and dated 10 May 2019, 10:28 AM Friday, Khim, not feeling strong enough to walk, was sitting on the same rollator with which I wheeled her inside the same shopping centre.
In contrast, Khim’s mother had been more or less homebound for the last twenty odd years of her life, as she could rely on just a walking stick to move around indoors and was never given a rollator or wheelchair to move about at home, let alone having recurrent opportunities to attend shopping centres, restaurants and the like. At the most, she had been taken for brief walks in the back alley of the house. It would seem that those who were around Khim’s mother in Malaysia had not figured out or thought of some reliable ways or practical means to facilitate the outings of an elderly person on a consistent and regular basis so that the person could still enjoy outdoor excursions or alfresco activities in their twilight years. It is also interesting to note that unlike Khim’s mother, Khim herself had never agreed or wanted to use any walking stick.
On balance, Khim and I had been able to make the best of what we could do and share in our daily lives together in spite of her (being beset with) subpar condition, which presented no less a series of gauntlets and hurdles that we had to endure and overcome in our daily routines.
As the preceding eight photos show, Khim’s subpar condition had required Khai to chaperone her regularly for various physician office visits, clinical examinations, hospitalizations, prescription drugs, wound managements, physiotherapies and other medical interventions.
Khim teasing Khai (28 Sep 2013, 8:40 AM Saturday) with Khai’s music “Take A Stroll”
In spite of Khim not measuring up in physical mobility, health and lifespan to those of her sisters, both Khai & Khim had consistently made the most of their times and situations together since immigrating to Australia, even more so since her becoming a widow, insofar as Khim, with Khai’s ongoing care, support, encouragement and participation, had well and truly remained the only one of all of the ten siblings to have bonded most deeply, completely and multifariously with her sole caregiver and final companion; to have been settled and then naturalized in a foreign country outside of Southeast Asia; to have learnt and continued playing a musical instrument as long as she was physically and mentally capable of doing so; to have experienced the widest range of music as well as the plethora of songs, shows and stars; to have documented her life and history through typing, writing, journaling and word processing; and to have been decked out in stylish dresses, bespoke hats and refined jewelleries on routine outings, even on the penultimate day of her life. One might indeed wonder how much more there could be told in the tale of Khai & Khim with respect to what they would have achieved and enjoyed in being together, if the latter had been fortunate enough to thrive in better health for another decade well into the 2020s.
Only those who have had to deal with senescence and sarcopenia on a daily basis truly understand the extent to which what, how much and how often there is to endure when one’s life is marred by infirmity. As a close-knit duo, I and my late mother, known as Khai & Khim, managed to find sustenance and respite in our mutual love for each other, a love grown and adapted to our circumstances, a love forged and persisted in over a long period, in fact a period longer and in many ways closer than those of any other relationships in both of our lives, as evidenced by counting the actual number of days and hours that Khim and I had been together on Earth, and by the revelations offered in this eulogy.
Khim Dyeing Her Hair (20 April 2014, 4:54 PM Sunday)
Khai & Khim with Panther (29 May 2014, 10:20 AM Thursday)
Nearing the end of this special eulogy for Khim, we are now ready to ask what is essentially so noteworthy, conspicuous and memorable about Khim in the final stage of her journey through life. If we were to give more credence to Khim’s agency in fashioning what is nowadays an increasingly uncommon scenario of the son caring for his mother to the very end, then we must consider not only Khai’s filial piety as the fulcrum of this relationship, but also how and why Khim managed to touch and charm those who were kind enough to be perceptive and caring towards her.
Khai & Khim attending the Stay Standing Program at Jubilee Community Care (27 Apr 2018, 11:29 AM Friday)
Khai & Khim with the front and side views of her ornate hat at Communify Supper Club (14 Jun 2018, 6:32 PM Thursday)
Khim’s ornate hat was one of about twenty made by Khai, whereas her stylish top was gifted to her by her youngest sister Mee Kin Woon (温美京) about 40 years ago in Penang before Khim’s retirement from teaching. The dress was designed and made by Khim’s younger sister Yean Kin Woon (温燕京)’s husband Sow Chee Chan (陳壽志)’s second brother’s wife, a competent tailor. In general, Khim in her old age could still comfortably fit into dresses that she wore in her youth many decades ago.
Watch the video below for a closer view of Khim’s ornate hat and dress.
Khai filming a heavy-eyed Khim (wearing an ornate hat made for her by the former) whilst dining and being entertained by a violin and cello duo playing “Amazing Grace” and “Waltzing Matilda” at Communify Supper Club (14 Jun 2018, 6:34 PM Thursday)
The first year of Khim living in Australia was an eventful and momentous one, for she and her husband, after considerable planning and learning to adjust on the fly to their new lives, had successfully relocated themselves from Kuala Lumpur, the capital city of tropical Malaysia, to become new immigrants and permanent residents in Brisbane, the state capital of subtropical Queensland in Australia, the Land of Oz, at which my brother and I arrived separately several years earlier to study at Brisbane Grammar School. The city of Brisbane, already a magnet for interstate tourists sojourning in the “Sunshine State”, was then experiencing its “Coming of Age” on the global stage as a result of hosting World Expo 88, a 625-million-dollar fair that attracted about 100 pavilions from 52 governments (of which 36 were international) and 15.76 million visitors during a six-month period between Saturday, 30 April 1988 and Sunday, 30 October 1988, inclusive.
As the following photo shows, both Khai & Khim visited the fair, which was the largest event of the Australian Bicentenary celebrations, marking Captain Arthur Phillip’s arrival with the eleven ships of the First Fleet in Sydney Harbour in 1788, and the founding of the city of Sydney and the colony of New South Wales. 1988 is thus regarded as the official bicentenary year of the founding of Australia.
Before the end of the same year, Khai & Khim with her husband would attend another big event, as the photo below shows.
In the intervening years, my parents would host or help other families and friends who came over to settle or study in Brisbane. Khim’s descendants and social circles would gradually grow in size as she acquired grandchildren and associated with family friends and acquaintances whilst also maintaining contact with various relatives and friends overseas.
Contemplating her life as a whole, especially since her retirement from a 36-year teaching career, Khim can be regarded as an indispensable agent and dedicated facilitator scripting an immigrant success story, a story in which she had been more than just a sidekick to my late father in implementing the family transplantation commencing in the 1980s, prompted by the prospect of a better future for their progeny. Whilst my ever-helpful and civic-minded late father also took on various organizing and executive roles as well as volunteering activities in the Brisbane community for 16 years, Khim quietly settled into the roles of a housewife, a mother to her two sons, and later a mother-in-law and a grandmother to three grandchildren for twice the amount of time, 32 years in total. In other words, half of her time in Brisbane was spent as a widow.
After my helping Khim to complete her application for citizenship, she was pleased to become an Australian citizen on 26 August 2005, exactly nine years and seven months after I became one myself. Keeping in touch with an ever smaller circle of relatives and friends who were themselves aging, moving on or passing away, Khim would remain a widowed senior citizen in her newly adopted country for 14 years, about one sixth of her total lifespan, during which she would increasingly turn towards me for unswerving support and companionship, and during which she would be summoning up the best that still remained in her to achieve unprecedented outcomes and invaluable legacies, as this eulogy will continue to reveal. Khim and I would become inseparable in the final eight years, the last one eleventh of her life, as she continued to forge ahead with grace and dignity regardless of the degree of her dependency and indisposition.
Considering that all of her siblings have stayed and retired in Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand in Southeast Asia, it can be firmly concluded that Khim remained the one amongst her siblings who, whether by fate or design, ventured with her entire family the farthest from her country of origin and fashioned a brand-new life in a faraway foreign land. In hindsight, one can also come to a further conclusion that my having migrated to Australia as a late teenager has been a blessing. Had the timing been earlier, there would be fewer opportunities to experience and consolidate the culture of my birth beyond having an ethnicity that ties me to my birthplace and Khim’s cultural origin. Whether or not the future that would have been available to Khai & Khim in Australia could have been greater and brighter had we immigrated earlier, one can indeed take comfort in realizing that my transition to a completely new life in the capital city of the “Sunshine State” in the Land of Oz as a young adult rather than a child had substantially minimized the loss of my birth heritage, whilst being balanced by the gain of fresh opportunities that would have been unavailable to both Khai & Khim otherwise, had both of us immigrated much later or not at all. All in all, the timing of the immigration had ensured that both Khai & Khim were significantly compatible in their sociocultural profiles with respect to their common interests and the extent of their multilingualism and multiculturalism, all of which had been essential in providing varied ingredients and hybrid recipes for maintaining as well as flavouring their lifelong close relationship.
One may also reasonably deduce in hindsight that our overall growth, prosperity and mental horizons would have been more circumscribed by tradition and curtailed by sociocultural diminishing returns, had we stayed rooted in our former home country. It would therefore stand to reason to conclude that Khim, and even more so I, had been given new, translocated potentialities for achieving a second “Coming of Age” resoundingly as we settled in Australia and revelled in cultural diversity afforded by multiculturalism, and also in knowledge diversity and unity as I pursued multidisciplinarity and consilience with enthusiasm and earnestness, plus the “Coming of Age” of the city of Brisbane through hosting World Expo 88. Hence, I would like to dedicate my following original musical composition to both Khim and I in the spirit of our “Coming of Age”, forged in the crucible of our transplanted lives, as we continued to treasure each other.
Khim took lessons and learnt to play the piano at around 20 years old, roughly three years older than the age at which I first taught myself to read music and to make sense of music theory, and then learnt to play the electronic organ by teaching myself at first and later taking lessons. Initially, Khim had to contend with a very old and poor quality piano that her father bought her. After two or three months, he sold it and bought a new piano, presumably on account of Khim’s good progress. According to Khim’s verbal acounts to me and also extrapolating from the dates of major events that Khim mentioned in her 106-page magnum opus entitled “Family Stories ( )”, I calculated that Khim had merely four years to learn the piano before moving away in 1955 with her mother and siblings to escape from her then increasingly abusive father who had married a new wife, who subsequently gave birth to five children, her half siblings, many of whom were to be professional musicians, as they followed in the footsteps of Khim to learn music, later becoming experts on the piano, organ, violin and conducting respectively. It would be quite fair and conceivable to think, believe, surmise or imagine that Khim had started the chain of musical dominoes, to the extent that had Khim not shown as much interest or aptitude in music and the piano, her father would not have bought her the old piano let alone the new one, and thus her half siblings might not have had the opportunities to begin taking music lessons about two and a half years after Khim began hers, and therefore their musical careers could have been inconceivable or unachievable.
Though Khim would never have the means to buy and own an acoustic piano for the rest of her life, during those brief few years, she managed to practise playing to her own satisfaction some familiar light classical music such as “The Maiden’s Prayer” and “In a Persian Market”. Khim must have had a wonderful time and a flair for learning and playing the piano, considering that she was able to progress rather quickly in spite of the fact that music is akin to language to the extent that adult beginners generally have a much harder time than their child counterparts in mastering the demands and technicalities of playing a musical instrument well or speaking a foreign language fluently, not to mention that Khim was already working full time as a school teacher six days a week.
The musical proclivity of Khim is similar to my own in that my learning to master the electronic organ took me only 20 months as a young adult to progress from a complete beginner to a qualified instructor after having learnt from four teachers and being assessed and passed on the teaching grade by a chief examiner flown in from Japan for the occassion. And like Khim, I have never owned an acoustic piano and have never been fortunate enough to learn to play the piano both early and long enough to master it to a professional level. Indeed, my one and only chance to start playing the piano and to take lessons, albeit at an even older age and shorter timespan than Khim did, occurred at a tertiary music institution owing to my not possessing a piano at home. This opportunity for my becoming a piano student for the first time in my life arose as I approached my late 20s, when I was accepted in 1993 into the bachelor degree programme majoring in composition at the Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University, the first two years of which I boldly elected piano as a second study and plunged myself headlong into learning to play the piano music of Bach, Clementi, Poulenc, Rachmaninoff and Scriabin. Such a decision was a very tall order if not insane or foolhardy, considering that I had never hitherto received any private piano tuition, and that there was no acoustic or digital piano for me to practise at home. At the end of the first year, two Russian examiners oversaw my very first piano examination, during which I nervously played a polyphonic piece by Bach called “Wer nur den lieben Gott lässt walten” (BWV 691a, which is scored for the organ but was played by me on the piano without using the sustain pedal) and also Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in B minor, Op. 32, No. 10, which was the composer’s personal favourite among his preludes, and which can sound magnificent in a rare but decent arrangement for orchestra and piano. Days later, I was thoroughly relieved to receive a positive review and a score of 86 (out of 100) from the examiners.
It was unfortunate that I had never had the opportunity to perform the Rachmaninoff’s Prelude and other pieces by the abovementioned composers for Khim whilst I could still physically do so. By the time I procured a portable concert grand piano in the early or mid 2000s, too much time had elapsed for my muscle memory and motor skill to retain those pieces to a satisfactory standard beyond the two years of piano study. Moreover, as mentioned in the discussion about Khim’s musical journey with respect to the kind and style of music that appealed to Khim, she would have almost certainly found some of these pieces to be a little too avantgarde or advanced to afford high degrees of compatibility with her aesthetic sensibility and to achieve effortless rapports with her musical taste, had I indeed been able to perform them at home. Yet, Khim would have been able to accustom herself towards such pieces and other similar ones if I were able to acquire the portable piano much sooner and play them anytime with ease in the comfort of our home. However, this particular brand and model of portable piano known as Technics sx-P50 with exceptional fidelity to the sound and touch of a Steinway concert grand was only available on the market in 2001.
On the whole, Khim had been the first of all her relatives to forge a much closer tie with music by going beyond passively consuming music to actively learning to play the piano and two electronic organs; whereas I have been the first of all my relatives to connect deeply and intellectually with music by venturing beyond learning to play several musical instruments (the piano, synthesizers, electronic organ and keyboards) to formally studying music composition, theory and analysis. In hindsight, one can see much more clearly that both Khai & Khim had taken a big chance and bold initiative to embrace active music making with the same acoustic musical instrument, on which both of them lavished love and time in spite of the disadvantages of having an upbringing deprived of music education.
Accordingly, it had been both prophetic and fitting indeed that the first character of Khim’s two-character Chinese name is 琴, which is a collective term for certain musical instruments such as 鋼琴 (piano), 風琴 (organ), 電子琴 (electronic organ), 提琴 (violin), 豎琴 (harp), 口琴 (harmonica), 手風琴 (accordion), 洋琴 (dulcimer), 七弦琴 (lyre), 古琴 (Chinese seven-stringed zither), 胡琴 (any of a family of vertical bowed lutes used in Chinese music), and 月琴 (fretted plucked lute with a round wooden body, used in the traditional music of China, particularly Beijing opera, and in the traditional music of Taiwan). Furthermore, 琴 is pronounced the same as 勤, the second character of Khim’s husband’s two-character name. Given that 琴 and 勤 are homophonic characters (同音字), there is no wonder that Khim and her husband had occasionally signed certain letters, photos and gifts with just 琴 and 勤 respectively as a single-character token of their love and affinity for each other. Interestingly, 對牛彈琴 is a Chinese idiom with a literal meaning of “Play the lute to a cow”. It can be paraphrased as “Cast pearls before swine”, “Whistle jigs to a milestone”, “Choose the wrong audience”, “Preach to deaf ears”, “Talk to a brick wall”, “Talk over somebody’s head”, “Offer caviar to the general”, “Present a treat to an unappreciative audience” or the like. One could always be sure that playing nice music on the piano or lute to Khim would never tantamount to “Casting pearls before swine”. On the contrary, such a musical gesture or offering would very much amount to “Draping pearls before swan🦢”. All in all, one may definitely conclude that Khim had lived up to her name.
In any case, and in resonating with the defining character of Khim’s Chinese name, I have since gone on to compose plenty of compositions for the solo piano, one of which once demanded my staying continuously awake for 50 hours to finish composing, notating and printing it to be performed on 9 October 1997 at the New Music Collective Concert held in the Recital Hall of Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University (formerly the Queensland Conservatorium of Music), where the audience as well as both my late parents witnessed for about two hours the showcasing of seven of my compositions ranging from solos and chamber music for acoustic instruments, to one featuring electroacoustic music, dance and real-time computer animation, and another featuring computer animation synchronised to electroacoustic soundscape.
This particular piece for solo piano completed under the longest sleep deprivation that I have ever experienced is the slow and pensive second movement named “Stream of Infinity” from my four-movement Piano Sonata No. 3 entitled “Romancing Infinity”. Available for listening below, the said movement is hereby dedicated by me to Khim for her attending its premiere at the New Music Collective Concert, and for commemorating Khim’s love of the piano, Khim’s fondness of Cornel Wilde playing the role of Frédéric Chopin in one of her favourite movies called A Song to Remember, and Khim’s appreciation of Richard Clayderman and Władziu Valentino Liberace, the two pianists whom she had remembered the most, and whose music had given her a good deal of joy via the very instrument of which she could have truly developed a delightful mastery, had she been exposed to it throughout her childhood.
Despite having the ear for music and the determination to entertain herself with music that she produced on a musical instrument of her choice, Khim was never to return to playing the piano even after I bought a portable concert grand piano with fully weighted keys and graded hammer action in the early or mid 2000s, mainly because after my encountering the Kawai electronic organ that Khim’s fourth elder brother (温墉京) bought for his two children (温世婷 and 温世政) to learn in the early 1980s, my own journey of music began in earnest and triggered a different chain of musical dominoes, or rather, a musical rollercoaster, taking Khim with me on a long and joyful ride making music together for almost the rest of her life, as explicated by the ensuing discussion.
To begin with, Khim’s liking for music was plain to see. Akin to Khim’s passing on to me her liking for the abovementioned movies and TV shows, her musical inclinations had also somehow infected me even though she did not have the means to afford buying musical instruments and paying for music lessons for her children during their childhoods and teen years. Regardless, I was later to be fortunate enough to complete tertiary music educations majoring in composition, music theory and analysis, apart from having other degrees and qualifications. Moreover, I was very honoured that Professor Stephen Emmerson, my favourite lecturer in music who supervised two of my theses, who performed my compositions at two or more concerts and one recording session, and who has been an inveterate movie connoisseur, surprised me with his attending Khim’s funeral. Delighted by his arrival, I ushered him to sit in the front row and reminded him that he was the one who gifted me the DVD of the movie A.I. Artificial Intelligence with a two-disc set containing special features, and that the opening and closing music that I had chosen for the funeral ceremony was none other than the song entitled “For Always”, the theme song from the movie. To my amusement, he could not remember gifting me the DVD and had no recollection that the song originates from the movie. Admittedly, he visited and brought me the present many years ago, probably on a day in mid or late 2000s, as far as I can recall. He had also been so kind and engaging an academic mentor as to visit our home in late 1998 once or twice during the final phase of his supervising my second thesis that I completed at Queensland Conservatorium of Music, Griffith University before my second graduation ceremony later in the same year.
Once Khim had retired from teaching and even more so during her widowhood, our home began to be filled with more music and songs. Khim’s desire to perform music at home for her own pleasure was revived as she had not only more time for leisure after retirement but also more musical rapport from me, who already possessed a sizeable repertoire of pieces that she could learn, having amassed a large collection of sheet music and song books. For many years during her 50s, 60s and 70s, she was quite able to enjoy playing the electronic organ competently and contentedly under my tutelage and encouragement, beside her asking me to play her favourite pieces from time to time.
Khim’s favourite had always been playing some of the catchy music from Book 4 of “The Kawai Way: Method for Electronic Organ Techniques”, including “Love Me, Please Love Me”, “Soleado”, “Goodbye My Love”, “Moon River”, “Let Me Try Again”, “Papa Loves Mambo”, and “I Kiss Your Hand, Madame”. The latter, also known in German as “Ich küsse Ihre Hand, Madame”, which is the title track (sung by Ralph Erwin, text by Fritz Rotter) of a 1929 German drama film directed by Robert Land starring Harry Liedtke and Marlene Dietrich, was arranged and played by me in real-time on the electronic organ as a tribute to Khim as follows. Though Khim struggled to play the pieces printed in Book 4 well and never managed to fully master any of them, she liked having me around not just to share her music-making endeavours, but also to perform her favourite tunes for her on demand when she was tired of practising them. Regardless of the depth of my influence, Khim was the only one of all of the ten siblings to have actually learnt and spiritedly loved the art of music making to a level at which she could find enough satisfaction in committing herself to playing a musical instrument on a long-term basis.
Considering that Khim and I were two persons who had shared the most amount of time with each other than with anyone else in playing and listening to music as well as watching TV and movies together, I would hereby like to dedicate one of my compositions to Khim, which can be savoured in the following two soundtracks. Composed in two parts, the composition comes across as introspective soundscapes, which musically depict and sonically symbolize our lives spent together during Khim’s twilight years. As the title suggests, The Sunset Lingers On is slow and lingering without a clear sense of rhythm or pulse to guide the listener, who is left with shifting colours of sounds and suspensions (or elongations) of tones, as well as the melodic sinuosity and subtle (ex)changes in instrumentation. Certain small sections of the composition also contain bitonality, being in two different keys, which soon dissolve into one, like the final coming together of Khai & Khim to be with one another, united by their love for each other during her sunset years.
The Sunset Lingers On can be savoured in full as the background music in the video entitled Khai & Khim celebrating her 87th birthday.
58 years after first learning to play the piano, Khim was about to embark on an even bigger learning curve, for when Khim was nearing 78 years old, I made a momentous decision to initiate her into the realm of preserving history through writing, typing, journaling and (the use of) word processing. As someone who had never been a serious writer beyond marking students’ homework and composing numerous letters to relatives and friends over many decades, and also as a complete beginner who never hitherto used any kind of computer, Khim boldly accepted the challenge of carving out a new territory this late in her life to cultivate what would be dauntingly regarded as complex skills and major undertakings by plenty of people from her generation. It took Khim several months of patience and practice to gradually master my list of the basic functions and most useful commands, which she eventually noted down as follows on a piece of A4 paper, which she always had around her for reference during any word processing session. I also made sure that my eldest nephew (鍾宏昇), Khim’s very last Chinese language student, would help her to save and backup her file(s) before she finished a typing session.
Inputing traditional Chinese characters in Microsoft Word is never as straighforward as typing alphabets on the keyboard to form English words. Initially, Khim practised writing a diary to become familiar with using Microsoft Word to type out Chinese characters. After drafting one or more diary entries on a piece of A4 paper, Khim would transfer the contents to Microsoft Word, where each Chinese character required a few specific keystrokes to form, based on a predefined input template. Using the phonetic-based input method called Bopomofo (ㄅㄆㄇㄈ) or Zhuyin (注音), Khim would enter pronunciations by typing the keys with the corresponding phonetic symbols (注音符號), which were then converted into the relevant traditional Chinese characters (繁體字).
Phonetic Correspondence Table
As one of the phonetic-based input methods for Chinese characters, Bopomofo (ㄅㄆㄇㄈ) or Zhuyin (注音) is one of the few input methods that are available on most modern personal computers without the need to download and install any additional software. Unlike stroke-based input methods, any phonetic-based input method only requires the user to know how to speak Mandarin and be able to recognize the Chinese characters. Entering the pronounciations rather than the strokes spares the user from having to construct the characters from scratch as required in writing Chinese. Consequetly, the phonetic-based input method is both an advantage and a disadvantage. It is an advantage insofar as users can type all the Chinese characters known to them by their phonetics or pronunciations. It is a disadvantage to the extent that it may cause language attrition and skill loss in adults since they no longer need to construct the characters, and that it may be a learning barrier for written Chinese in children.
Armed with the new word processing skill, the very first two diary entries were thus created by Khim on 19-20 Jan 2009, as shown below.
Khim worked on her Chinese diary until the end of April 2009. Beginning in the following month, in the good spirit of having more variety and getting her to write about her past events rather than just daily matters that she had been digesting into the diary form, I heartily recommended to Khim that she could start working on several autobiographical projects, which eventuated via Microsoft Word as follows.
Pages & Word Count
|Happy New Year||新年快樂||4 & 1805||31 May 2009|
|Teaching at School||在校教書||40 & 18353||5 May 2009|
|Family Stories||家庭故事||106 & 51883||10 Mar 2011|
|The Story of Khim-Kin Woon||温琴京故事||23 & 12048||11 Aug 2011|
Overall, Khim finally became competent enough to be a writer successfully capturing her stories for posterity. Meticulously recalling and typing out various events in her life chronologically across several autobiographical projects constituted one of Khim’s most significant achievements. Khim persisted in those projects for four years from 2009 to 2012, as long as she had played the piano in her youth. Undoubtedly, Khim’s monumental accomplishment as a writer can indeed be regarded as a crowning glory in its own right. So far, Khim remains the only one of all of the ten siblings to have documented her history through typing, writing, journaling and word processing.
To demonstrate one of those four autobiographical projects, the first two paragraphs of her autobiography entitledare shown below as a handwritten draft and the finalized excerpt.
I still feel immensely grateful and blessed that Khim had shared my deep sense of duty and perseverance in preserving history, even though other relatives had not exhibited such interest or desire to do the same through meticulous documentation, writing and journaling. In particular, just as I had been the only person initiating, organizing and facilitating Khim’s autobiographical projects from start to finish, Khim remained the only person who both appreciated and comprehended what my visions and missions had entailed over the several years during which I fervently and tirelessly built and designed a multipurpose clan website following the then recognized need for preserving not just our histories but also those of Khim’s siblings and their respective spouses and descendants, as well as their friends and associates by extension. Khim took considerable pains in fleshing out the detailed functions and features of the clan website plus a good summary of my approach to life and learning in her 3060-word essay dated 2 February 2014 and entitled 温琴京介紹網站之文, which she typed out as follows. Indeed, Khim and I were having something momentous in common insofar as we each had a major undertaking — hers in the form of autobiographical projects and mine the multifarious clan website equipped with content management, messaging system, encyclopedia, genealogy, recipe sharing, Internet radio, social media integration, discussion forums, news, games and other useful provisions and resources.
It turned out that our creations, namely Khim’s autobiographical projects and my multitudinous clan website as well as our unfettered commitments and motivations in these regards have remained as singular as our interracial appearances, for neither creations were emulated or patronized by other relatives, in spite of our leading with examples.
Though Khim had stopped typing text in late 2014, she continued writing several journals to record personal and family matters as well as to document her medical appointments and conditions.
In addition, I had also encouraged Khim to copy by hand a vernacular and illustrated version of the Chinese classic text Liao-Fan’s Four Lessons (了凡四訓), entitled Uncle Liao-Fan Telling Stories (了凡叔叔說故事). Almost on a daily basis, Khim began copying the 141-page text onto a 96-page exercise book from 11th April to 25th July of 2017, and then onto a hardcover journal that I bought her, entitled Finding Your Inner Goddess: A Journal of Self-Empowerment from 26th July 2017 to 17th April 2018. Two entries dated 19th and 20th of September 2017 are shown below.
The last four entries in the journal were copied from the text onto the journal on 22nd and 23rd of May 2018 when I brought the journal to her in the hospital where she was admitted for the whole of May, and later on 6th and 7th of August, barely two months after her discharge from the hospital. By then, it was clear to me that whilst writing continued to exercise Khim’s mind and her hand-eye coordination, she was very far from having the mood or energy to write everyday, as she found the task of copying text increasingly taxing due to her worsening health and frailty, which had begun to erode the beauty and neatness of her written words.
Three months later, I managed to encourage Khim to copy the Three Hundred Tang Poems (唐詩三百首), an anthology of poems from the Chinese Tang dynasty, onto a new and large 3D colouring book containing squares to guide her in writing those Chinese characters neatly. On an irregular basis between 3rd November and 19th December 2018, Khim was able to copy the first eight poems to her best ability. Though I was gratified by Khim’s spirit of tackling those poems, and was grateful that she could still write with reasonable legibility, it pained me a great deal to see that her speed and accuracy of copying were very much lower than what it used to be during her youth, and that the individual Chinese characters appeared to be significantly not as tidy and aesthetically pleasing as they did in the past. This deterioration was clearly visible in the fifth, sixth and seventh poems handwritten by Khim, as shown below.
Sadly, the ninth poem was the last entry in the colouring book, almost being copied in its entirety on the second day of the new year 2019, the day when Khim suddenly fell without warning near the entrance to her bedroom, hitting her head and then spending ten hours in the hospital. Even though Khim was declared by the medical examiners to have sustained no permanent injuries of any sort from the fall, she had somehow lost her will or willingness to copy any text or to write any more journal entries after the accident, thus signalling the very end of her prolific written words, the cessation of her memorable handwriting, and the termination of her disciplined penmanship.
I shall always cherish all that Khim had been able to express and reveal through her typing and writing. In hindsight, Khim seemed to have decided to lay down her pen and let her right hand rest in peace before its terminal decline could usher in illegibility, just as fatefully as she had departed from this world later in the year well before her mind could become a permanent captive of vascular dementia. Although Khim had effectively ceased to be a writer and book copier by the end of 2018, she never once had to miss being dressed up by me to go out and about looking her best, even right up to the penultimate day of her life.
In the final analysis, what was really there between Khai & Khim? Perhaps it is all too easy, glib, flippant or perfunctory to just call it love, albeit an abiding love between a son and a mother. After all, the word “love” has been so indiscriminately tossed around, unreservedly brandied about and much overused across various forms of relationship throughout the ages that “love” as a universal term of recognition and devotion can easily become an overloaded cliché or a trite declaration, even if it can be (regarded as) the ultimate concept for capturing or encapsulating all of the diverse nuances of human compassion and tenderness. Nevertheless, no significant love can occur without a significant relationship, insofar as relationships are always at the core of human interactions.
What any perceptive and decent-minded person may learn, realize or appreciate from the story of Khai & Khim is that the personal(ized) relations and quintessential values (whether moral, spiritual, emotional or otherwise) associated with and entailed in caring for each other or others, with kindness, compassion, tolerance and inclusiveness, have to transcend the often rigid, constraining or stereotyped sociocultural frameworks and (inter)generational dynamics engendered or imposed by both our biology and our society, to the extent that such relations and values are ultimately broad, underlying human connections that are integral to our loving one another with truly unbridled authenticity, dependability and faithfulness.
In any case, Khai being Khim’s long-term carer and filial child had been a bittersweet experience and poignant journey, filled and defined by multiple roles and myriad duties. Through her hindsight and in her gleeful belief, Khim rationalized her saving me from becoming another case of infant mortality as a paramount life-changing event having karmic significance. Khim had been outwardly content, grateful and proud in both confessing and professing to Khai that she was able to rescue Khai just in time from death from jaundice in his babyhood, so that, decades later, Khai could in turn cushion her from the ravages and indignities of old age, as well as to save her from being overwhelmed by life-threatening falls and illnesses.
In that regard, Khai had become not only what was in her heart and mind the final object of love, her serendipitous saviour, her unwitting insurance policy for a better life against decrepitude, but also what was in reality her confidant, best friend, companion, mentor, teacher, poet, artist, musician, dance partner, preserver of her history and heirlooms, fashion designer, hair beautician, milliner, jewellery maker, antique collector, interior decorator, librarian, shopper, cleaner, gardener, cook, nutritionist, therapist, nurse, secretary, butler, personal assistant and the like. These multiple roles and myriad duties carried out by Khai have unfolded for fifteen years and nine months since the start of her widowhood, evolving, improving and being refined to such an extent that Khim could thoroughly enjoy living at home, within which she found her regal palace, her ultimate sanctuary, her wondrous paradise, and without which she could enjoy being active outside the home, being out and about and stylishly dressed.
Khai & Khim with Lucy at Jamaica Blue, Indooroopilly (7 May 2019, 10:25 AM Tuesday) having muffins and hot chocolate.
Khim was wearing a fancy hat made by Khai.
“Ave Maria” was played and recorded by Khai on the electronic organ.
Khim wearing a bespoke hat made for her by Khai to celebrate Mother’s Day (10 May 2019, 10:28 AM Friday)
A young blogger by the name of Clint Dunham who mourned the loss of his dear friend in early 2016, and who has so far not resumed blogging, concluded his last post entitled “Life, Death, and What’s Left Behind” and published within days of the passing, with the following existential reflections on the fragility of being mortal and the importance of valuing those around us.
Some say that the universe, or God, has a plan for us all and when someone passes it is their time. I don’t know if I personally believe that. I do think that the universe provides for us in certain ways, but I think life is a little more of a gamble than that. When trying to come up with a reason, or something that makes this fair, I don’t see one. But I have found my own way of dealing with this loss. This reason of course differs from person to person. Everyone is entitled to a reason that helps them through these difficult times. I believe that in the wake of something tragic, the law of equivalent exchange leaves room for something positive. It brings loved ones together. It puts life into perspective. It makes you value the life that you have more, or maybe even for the first time. It shows us how valuable and fragile life is and the impact we can make when we cease to exist. It brings more attention to the way we treat others in our daily the interactions. Nothing in life is guaranteed, and that includes life itself. As cliche as it sounds, you never really know when the last time you will see someone will be, so make sure you let the people you care about know you care about them, and learn to forgive. You never know if it’s your loved ones last day on this earth, or even your own.
If you are suffering from a loss in your life, I’m sorry. I hope this helps you in some way.
If we were to imagine Khim to be some kind of goddess, then we would consider it to be both notionally inspiring and fittingly endearing that Khim often called me “My Little White Rabbit (我的小白兔)” or “My Small Jade Bunny (我的小玉兔)” as her term of endearment, for according to the Chinese folklore connected to the Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋節), the mythological white rabbit is customarily portrayed as a constant companion of the moon goddess Chang’e (嫦娥), faithfully pounding the elixir of life for her.
Khai & Khim talking whilst browsing a display cabinet at home (1 Mar 2018, 5:28 PM Thursday)
37 seconds into the video, Khai asked Khim, “What do you call me, mummy?” She replied, “[I] call you Little White Rabbit (小白兔).”
To the extent that Khim’s fragility had increasingly signalled to me that our time together on Earth was becoming depleted, the ongoing experience of looking after Khim had contributed to my developing an improved understanding of the shared sense of empathy for the human condition as enacted within the relationship of a parent (care giver) and child (care receiver), whose interdependencies over the years had been both preserved by consanguinity on the one hand, and dramatically transformed by role reversals on the other, where(by) the care giver eventually became the care receiver, and vice versa.
In being with and caring for Khim, I had been routinely touched by her humanity, dignity and resilience, which had been at times severely tested by her frailty and melancholy, even as I attempted my best to assist Khim in ascending to the lofty realm of ageing gracefully and dignifyingly. Yet, there was always an underlying charm and understated cheer that came through Khim, often in the form of her loving and embracing me in ways that only she could, not just as a mother but also as someone who had understood me and appreciated us well enough in spite of our circumstances and generational differences, many of which we had endeavoured to overcome or transcend by virtue of mutual rapports, shared interests, creative pursuits and improvised merriments, in which we had not only forged a renewed closeness but also created worthwhile opportunities, memories and legacies.
Experiencing the vicissitudes of life notwithstanding, my being the sole carer and companion of Khim had ushered in an enduring reality in which I had to learn to face and bear the encroaching mortality of someone whom I had loved and cared for over a long period. Each extra day of having Khim around was not merely a precious bonus to be cherished but also a bittersweet dance with the ebbing away of life right before my very eyes. There were indeed inescapable moments when the taxing symptoms and mounting impacts of Khim’s debility cast a long and dreary shadow over our capacity to create or savour our joyful details of living and being together, which nevertheless had been bolstered by tender loving care and reinforced by joint proclivities such that love and affection could persevere. It was indeed the kind of love and affection that we both had confidently believed to persist and thrive in our togetherness through the years, even continuing beyond Khim’s time on Earth, being carried forward in time by my memories and her memoirs as well as this multimedia eulogy, which in itself is a labour of love, a product of devotion.
Perhaps one may liken the feeling or experience of accomplishing such an exercise as fashioning this eulogy with bespoke design to the exhilaration of a writer achieving something as significant as publishing a new book scrupulously produced to the utmost satisfaction, though in this case, there has also been the necessity to maintain both my composure and stamina to compose something as highly paramount and historical as this richly protracted oeuvre to commemorate the life of my late mother whom I adored. Both the biographical details gathered and the multipronged processes incurred in constructing this multifaceted, multimedia eulogy have been veritably fruitful and edificatory, although it is still premature or precipitous to determine how well and sufficiently cathartic they have been in mediating sorrow and alleviating lament, in conjunction with validating my lingering love for Khim holistically. In the spirit of this special eulogy, and in honouring the closeness of Khai & Khim, I hereby commemorate our times together with my musical compositions in the form of the following three soundtracks.
As far as I can ascertain throughout the decades of being with Khim, she had never suffered from any fear or anxiety towards death. Neither had she ever sought refuge, solace and comfort in religion, philosophy, new age belief, mysticism, superstition, hedonism, chemical ecstasy or utopian fantasy. In her own unassuming way, she had embraced and made peace with her mortality, not to mention her witnessing my very own and promptly rescuing me from early severe morbidity just days after her giving birth to me. So deep a bond we had been sharing ever since my becoming her final and sole companion that even Khim’s last intelligible words spoken to me before she slipped into a coma were meant to apprise me that she wanted to go home with me. In the end, Khim quickly succumbed, met her quietus and relinquished the breath that gave her life as she became an exanimate entity, completing her brief but spectacular journey of being born and living a full, meaningful life on the pale blue dot known as Earth, still surrounded by the majesty and mystery of a vast universe that earthlings are only starting to understand via contemporary cosmology. Figuratively speaking, or rather, introspectively musing and tenderly reminiscing, the remnant afterglow of the universe within Khim has continued to illumine me as I recollect our good times together. It was a universe expanded by the timelessness of her being, governed by her virtuous laws of motion, populated by her muted delights and inner feelings, gravitated by her gentleness and contentment, where one could find the best of her temperament, the essence of her disposition, the grace of her beauty, and the embrace of her affection, maternal or otherwise.
As I reflect on the limit of physiology, the price of our mortality, the impermanence of our existence, and as my academic interests and multidisciplinary backgrounds both inform and compel me to face the outstanding flaws in human nature pitted against and causing the looming global ecological crisis, and as I mull over my abiding love for my late mother and hers for me, I am concluding this eulogy by bringing you to an imagined scenario very similar to that of A.I. Artificial Intelligence, a 2001 science-fiction drama film directed by Steven Spielberg. Perhaps one day, some advanced form of humanoid, robot or extra-terrestrial can reconstruct our home from my memories and audio-visual archives, and recreate Khim through genetic material from her locks of hair that I keep, and through my memories and her memoirs that she meticulously typed out and wrote down. If it really turns out as the movie depicted that Khim can only live for one day, and the process cannot be repeated, then, knowing that I have done my utmost to resurrect our connection through a welcomed reunion, I shall spend my happiest day with Khim, and as she falls asleep in the evening, I shall be granted an eternal slumber and join her in the everlasting moment, forever, for always and beyond goodbye.