The Queen and my aunt, and the burden of duty

 

Queen Elizabeth II died last week. She had led a long life and reigned for 70 years before passing away at the age of 96.

My own auntie died a week earlier, of Covid complications. She was of similar age, though we can’t be more definitive because her birth in the 1920s didn’t make the papers the way that Elizabeth’s did.

She could very well be older than what her birth certificate says. In those days, especially in the kampungs, it took weeks or months or even years before births were registered, if at all.

Queen Elizabeth was our monarch too when we were still colonies and territories of the British Empire. She was as much a fact of our life as red post boxes, the song Rule Britannia, and the sight of white “tuans” in shorts.

While some may think that mention of such facts is a sign of a leftover colonialist mindset, it’s also a fact that our own experiences as colonies and territories weren’t as searing and traumatic as those of India and Africa.

We weren’t colonised because of our riches – we were never the Crown Jewel of the British Empire – but for our strategic location, and maybe because it was the “in” thing to do then.

We didn’t suffer the trauma of a war for independence, regardless of what glossy movies wish to portray. We gained our independence very civilly in 1957 for Malaya, and by 1963 for Sabah, Sarawak and Singapore. We became Malaysia 59 years ago last Friday.

Queen Elizabeth then became just a familiar image on old stamps and coins.

The UK is now in mourning. There’s sorrow but also angry voices elsewhere about some of the more painful legacies of the empire that she represented.

I won’t go there. That’s a bigger debate about history and geography and finance and estate planning, very relevant in their own ways, and which I’m sure will be much aired, civilly or not, in the coming months and years.

Rather, I’d like to examine an aspect of life that has had an impact on both people – Queen Elizabeth as well as my auntie. It’s about duty.

My mother’s parents died when she was very young. She grew up with various relatives, including her cousin, my auntie. They became as close as sisters, and that’s how we children saw them too.

My auntie lost her only child, an adult daughter, over 30 years ago, after having lost her husband a few years earlier. I can’t even imagine how it must have felt to lose your only child, but she accepted her fate with strength and fortitude.

Our family always felt we owed a debt of gratitude to my auntie’s family for taking care of our mother when she was a very young orphan. My sisters repaid that by taking care of our auntie in her last few years right until the end.

Taking care of old people is hard – my sister once said it’s a great way to pile up sins! You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t occasionally feel angry or resentful of the burden of such a responsibility.

But duty requires you to keep bearing the burden in spite of these occasional doubts and resentment. It’s about doing your duty and fulfilling your responsibility even if at times it would’ve been easier to abandon it.

Was there pressure on our family to do this? Apart from our society’s expectations that we take care of the elderly, and of family in general, there weren’t any pointed expectations of us. After all, she wasn’t our parent.

My auntie had her pension and even had medical benefits coverage at private hospitals paid for by her husband’s ex-employers. Money wasn’t an issue. Growing old alone was.

To my sisters, it’s about repaying debts, even if nobody was sending us a bill. It’s something driven internally and not by some societal expectations from our horrendously feudal society and culture.

I don’t think my sisters saw this duty as an imposition. If at all, it was something they willingly imposed upon themselves.

“England expects that every man will do his duty”, so signaled Admiral Horatio Nelson at the start of the Battle of Trafalgar, which he won even if he didn’t survive it.

The men, and women, of the British Empire were expected to grit their teeth and do what’s needed to be done. Keep Calm, said a later exhortation.

The Queen – there are many queens, even in Europe, but there’s only one called “The Queen” – lived a life of duty calmly and regally. For 70 years she headed “The Firm”, the collection of British royals of varying quality and popularity who often faced questions about their relevance and future.

Rich as they are – they inherited properties and wealth from hundreds of years of possession of the throne – they deliver even more to the UK’s economy.

The UK gains so much from the royal family, especially when Queen Elizabeth was its head.

She dedicated her life to being a monarch, pledging upon her coronation the remaining years of her life, whether long or short, into the service of the kingdom. She fulfilled that commitment graciously and regally in a reign that lasted 70 years.

She could’ve thrown this burden off her shoulders – after all her own uncle King Edward VIII did exactly that. She would then have been able to enjoy her family’s immense wealth and live the actual life of luxury that many imagine royalty do.

But the royal family, and I’m proud to say mine, too, chose the harder path, that of taking it upon themselves to see things through, no matter the pain and the burden and the sacrifice.

Both sets of duties ended very recently and within days of each other, and in ways that the bearers of the duties would’ve been proud.

The Queen’s duties, that she voluntarily accepted and to which she dedicated her life, are over, and she can rest.

So did the duties my sisters took upon themselves to repay our mother’s debt, even if it’s a debt we imagined in our heads. - FMT

Editor’s note: The funeral of Queen Elizebeth II takes place at 11am UK time (6pm in Malaysia) on Monday (Sept 19)

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT