SeaDemon Says

For some, April showers have been horrible, almost as horrible as the hot weather spell itself. The last thunderstorm brought down several trees in my area, crashing onto an office building, a house or two, on a small lorry and at least a car.

For me, it has been an eventful April so far; from going to an offshore platform to do a safety audit to several other things – both bitter and sweet, one that probably involves my being anathematized by the family three years ago. And the good news is, Wifey and I, together with Renek, Dalie, Rina and Aznan will be on our annual pilgrimage to Sipadan next week.

One of the items is Wifey’s cancer-stricken aunt’s physical condition has taken a sudden turn. Two years ago we visited her when she was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer, the same illness that robbed my family of our maternal grandmother. It is an illness that has a 45 percent 5-year survival rate; in laymen term, that means only 45 diagnosed patients out of 100 would survive up to 5 years – if diagnosis was done early. In this case as with the case of my late grandmother, it wasn’t that early. The last I met her was some months back at the engagement ceremony of one of Wifey’s cousins. She asked me how I was, and I asked her the same. She looked fine; frail but fine. Somehow she has a relapse and seeing her yesterday reminded me of how painful it was to see my grandmother 12 years ago – and how painful it was to see her go only six months after losing my maternal grandfather.

And last night, we had a Coming Out Of The Closet cum Birthday party for Komar. He finally decided to introduce his girlfriend to the gang, and we would like him (as well as her) to know that we think she’s cool to have as a friend. As long as she can stand our antiques, and hopefully she could.

WELCOME TO THE GANG!

Of course it would be the ultimate delight to see them end up as actual partners in this weird and long journey called life.

And it was a joy to see my eldest daughter again after a week or so, this time to help out with her university admission form, documents needed to complement the form, and so on. The last time I did this, I had to do it on my own. In a way, it saddened me a bit as she is now a young adult, all grown up, and no longer that baby I use to hold close to me at night – I remembered how I used to sing to her as she closed her eyes and her little fingers clutched my finger and not letting go. I remember the first steps she took, the first word she uttered, her favourite calendar, her rubber ducky that was her first toy, when she gave up her milk bottle, her first walk to the kindergarten, her Taekwondo tournament, her first scuba dive. I am going to miss her.

Then I sent her to my parents’ house being the nearest place to the university that she had applied to. As I approached the house, the gate opened automatically and my father’s car, was on its way out when it slowed, and then stopped. Wifey, my daughter and I alighted from our car. I stood there for a second or two before I saw the window on the side where my mother’s seated being wound down. I felt a slight joy and the thought of a sign of thaw in the three-year winter between my parents and I crossed my mind. I stuck my head through the window and smiled at my mother, held her hand and tried to kiss it, but she just froze, and all I could say was,

“Mak!”

She just went,

“Hmm!”

That was an ephemeral joy lasting but for a few seconds. The window was being wound down so my father could leave verbal instructions to my daughter. To not embarrass anyone including myself in the presence of the driver, I just feebly mentioned that I was there to send my daughter, to which I received no response whatsoever.

And the pain that I felt three years ago just seared again across my heart. It seems that there is no sign of anything thawing. I walked back to my car and waited for my daughter to come back to the car so I could hug her before saying goodbye.

But at least I got to see how she is. It is no joy at all, but at least it has answered a question.

After my daughter had walked through the gate, I got back into the car and drove home. I held Wifey’s hand hoping to console myself.

I am so glad I have Wifey by my side.

And I hope, April showers will bring May flowers.

A tenth of a score is the number of years
that your mother is now almost free of tears
the day that her love and mine were sown
was the day I took you as my own

Two years it has been that time has flown
not once have I ever rested a single bone
one was for us to know each other
the other I became your stepfather

Taking you to the clinic at night’s not a bother
your life is what I try make smoother
to my kids sometimes I wish to do the same
even though you always have for me a name

For you I cook, bear the heat of the flame
hoping the taste you would not find as lame
being loved by you was not what I sought
missing my children is the feeling constantly fought

I am sometimes filled with fraught
I know that your father I am not
I know that I can never be perfect
all I hope for is some show of respect

For I always try to take a step farther
but it is never always easy being a stepfather…

I’m lying here in bed wondering if I will be deployed offshore tomorrow. My flight’s been booked but my deployment depends on whether the client’s driller can renew their offshore safety passport in time. At the same time I find myself humming an old song by Bob Carlisle called ‘Butterfly Kisses’.

My daughters Farhanah and Fazira were five and two respectively when I first heard that song. Their mother and I had just gone through separation and subsequent divorce, and I was missing my daughters terribly. And listening to this song made it worse because I did not want to miss seeing my children grow up and then leave me when they have a world of their own. And every school holiday I would get them to stay with me, and we would have a ritual whenever I tuck them in bed. Farhanah would start first by saying:

“Ayah, kiss!”

I’d give her a kiss. Then she’d go:

“Eskimo!”

And we’d do the “Eskimo” kiss, which is rubbing my nose on hers. Then she’d ask for the final act of the ritual:

“Butterfly!

And we’d bat our eyelash several times onto each other’s cheek. After that we’d give each other a big hug. Only after that I would turn to little Fazira who would be waiting for her kiss, Eskimo kiss and Butterfly kiss eagerly wearing a big grin on her face.

I have no idea when did we stop this ritual…but whenever I get to, I would kiss their forehead and hug them for as long as I could.

All the precious time
Like the wind, the years go by.
Precious butterfly.
Spread your wings and fly.

Fazira will turn 15 this year, and Farhanah will turn 18. Maybe by next month, if everything goes well, the latter will commence her tertiary studies; and if everything goes well, she’ll start working in 6 years time. Maybe, a year or two later, she’d have her own world and will have her own life. I will no longer have her, or be able to hug her as freely as I would now. Perhaps, Fazira would follow suit just three years later.

And to think it was almost two decades ago that I would lie down next to each of them, pat them to sleep, and feel their hand grip my little finger gently but firmly. They are all grown up, and one day they will leave me.

I just hope before that happens, I would get to do those kisses with them again. I just want them to know and remember how much I love them, and that I will always love them as I have been doing since the day they were born.

And I can never not feel like crying when I think of them, and listen to Bob Carlisle’s song…

In all that I’ve done wrong I know I must
have done something right to deserve a hug
every morning and butterfly kisses at night

Azizul: “Abang Rahmat submit je gambar yang abang Rahmat suka.”

Me: “Alamaaaaak…bukannya ada yang elok pun. Orang lain ambik gambar dengan strobe dua tiga. Kita ambik habis tinggi ada LED light kecik aje.”

That was part of the conversation I had with Azizul when he pestered me to submit my best photos for an event called A Day if Photographic Memory – Underwater Sceneries of Malaysia. I have never done underwater photography seriously; those photos were just aide memoire for me of my trips. Anyhow, I submitted a few.

Sometime late January, I was informed by the Program Manager, Miss Hanim Pahron, that one of the photos I had submitted, have been chosen to be displayed at the National Art Gallery. The first question that popped was: “Which one?

The day came. During the slideshow presentation, they showed this photo of mine:

Chromodoris magnifica at Kador Bay

But when we went up to the gallery, I was surprised to find that the photo chosen to be displayed, and later be part of the gallery’s permanent collection, is this photo:

Me with my photo of a Scorpionfish at Mabul displayed at the National Art Gallery

And now this photo of mine has become part of the National Art Gallery’s collection, part of the nation’s heritage…now that is an ultimate DIVE SATISFACTION.

THE STORY BEHIND THIS PHOTO:

It was the third of our five day trip to Mabul and Sipadan, and the first dive that morning was beneath the Seaventures. There were two other dive boats there, one from BDMR and the other from SMART. Therefore there was a lot of divers beneath the surface converging upon the same area. The main attraction there are the frogfishes (Angler Fish) and the Pygmy Seahorses. And they were all there snapping away.

So, I ventured alone and found this big ugly creature and approached it slowly, well aware of how painfully poisonous it is. It reared its venomous and spiky pectoral and dorsal fins…I stopped and did not look directly into its eyes, for fear that it might interpret me as a predator. I waited for it to calm down and gained its trust before moving in closer for this shot.

I didn’t give this shot much thought as not many are interested in Scorpionfishes, preferring nudibranchs and other strikingly beautiful fishes instead, but this one has made it into the archives, and has made me smile.

My scalp feel very tight and shining, my nose is peeling. And that’s the result of being dry for 3 months and going back diving.

If you think that this is going to be one of those post-dive trip postings, you are so wrong. This is going to be about one of the dives done during the previous trip to Tioman.

Often marriage is said to be about compatibility, how similar one is to the other half, what it is about the other half that we can or cannot accept. We often try to see what it is about the other half that we think we can live with, hopefully, for the rest of our life.

But is it really that?

I often wondered what would happen to me should I lose Wifey? And this was the thought that played on my mind while I was diving, brought about by someone’s status on Facebook on the morning we departed Mersing that said something like:

“Marriage is not about being with the person you can live with, but being with the person you can’t live without.”

So, that got me thinking, that if I lose Wifey, would I be able to bring myself to go diving ever again without suffering a breakdown.

As in any marriage, each of us has our pluses and minuses. Somehow, I am glad that we managed to iron most things out while we were courting each other, and really like what we saw at the end of it before deciding to live with each other for the rest of our life. There still are times that we’d get on each others’ nerves, but we never fail to kiss each other good night before we sleep, kiss each other good morning when we get up, and kiss and hug each other before we leave for work.

And I love watching her underwater, how she enjoys looking at Batfishes, Yellow Boxfishes, and Pufferfishes among others. When we started dating two years ago this month, she wouldn’t even talk about following me to an island, let alone bask under the sun. Now, she enjoys the salty seawater that would render her treated hair rough, the sun that would turn her skin dark, and she would be dreaming of going back underwater…and I had nothing to do with it. But what has it done for me? I now have a dive buddy whom I love and loves me in return. And I enjoy every dive that I’ve made with her. My whole diving world changed after she took up diving in August of 2009. Even if I had to look after newer divers and pair her off with divers I would trust her with, I would turn to look and see if she was okay.

On the last day of our previous trip, we did the ritual jetty/house reef dive, this time with the newest diver in the group, Bro Rina. After wading the shallows heading towards where the sea bottom slopes, I led the dive to the jetty. In that excellent visibility, I knelt down, folded my arms and watched as thousands of fishes in schools swam above and around us. I watched Wifey and she was all smiles.

Then we all went to the house reef, where a school of almost 30 huge Reef (Broadclub) Cuttlefishes (Sepia latimanus) were spawning, and spent a good 20 minutes watching them. I could see how Wifey enjoyed that dive.

I now have this troubling thought – what if Wifey is no longer around? Would I be able to dive without her? How am I to enjoy looking at the things she enjoys looking at if she is no longer around? How would I feel when I no longer feel that tugging on my fins, turning around to see that gleeful smile on her face everytime she spots something interesting? How would I feel making my safety stop alone without those arms around my waist and she making faces at me? I can only think that I would be very heartbroken indeed. It was when I had this thought that I had a tear or two welling in my eyes, and I held her close to me, kissing her head. Then I cleared my mask as if I had seawater inside it.

Therefore, I know I cannot live without her. Never ever.

My dive life buddy and I