Love, death, and heartbreak

 Dr Mahathir Mohamad's sorrow at the death of his lifetime partner Dr Hasmah Ali was heartbreaking in itself.

I can’t add much to the paeans to the late Dr Hasmah Ali from the many who knew her better. But I’d like to say a few things that reflect on the beauty of her long marriage to the indomitable ex-prime minister Dr Mahathir Mohamad, who is even older and currently also in poor health.

Mahathir never hid her. She was always at his side on every occasion that protocol and decorum allowed. Mahathir, one of the toughest of all men and one of the hardest of all politicians, always looked happy beside her, both often smiling that enigmatic smile that seemed to say, “we’re equals here”.

The sight of a heartbroken Mahathir at her funeral was heartbreaking in itself. Even his harshest critic or political enemy could feel and empathise with his pain and loss. AlFatihah, and may I add my own condolences to her family and those who love and respect her, and may she rest in peace.

Her passing reminds me of my own parents, both of whom passed away many years ago. My parents, in the tradition of many devout Muslims, talked about death often and matter-of-factly, not in any sombre or ghoulish way, but just death as the inevitable next act that they, and soon enough all human beings, must face.

Going to meet her Maker held no fear for my mother. But she did say openly to all and perhaps even to my father himself that she wished he would pass on before her for a very simple, practical reason – that without her he would find life hard and lonely and difficult to bear, even with his children and grandchildren beside him.

Now, my father was the tough, hard man in the family. He had been a fisherman, a farmer, a shopkeeper, often a street hawker and if his tales are to be believed, also a soldier employed by the British to defend Penang against the Japanese invasion in late 1941, armed with an old rifle and two bullets.

He had a temper, too, one well known across my village. You didn’t mess with Pak ‘Ain, as my father was known. His fuse, once lit, could not be put out but would run its course no matter how much damage it did to people and things.

But my mother matched, even surpassed, the sacrifices my father made to bring up our family amidst poverty, and in my father’s case, frequent ill health.

What she said about death was not because she wished for a great last few years unburdened by matrimonial duties, but was just an expression of her care and concern for her husband, who would truly be lost without her.

She didn’t say it wishing to unburden herself of an increasingly frail man and it left unsaid her own strength and self-sacrifice that had held the family together through 55 years of marriage.

And that’s how things turned out. She passed away in 2000, three years after my father. I always knew how her strength, unspoken and unsung as it was, had helped our family survive our own slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and helped make us who we are today.

I suspect Hasmah was made of the same stern stuff as my mother, and many other mothers out there. She helped Mahathir withstand the pressures of politics while raising their family, all the while smiling serenely as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

I can only imagine Mahathir’s heartbreak at losing his life partner so late in life.

Malaysians have had both Tuns in our lives for so long that we perhaps have taken their existence for granted.

I pray for strength for Mahathir during these sad times. Even the hardest and toughest of humans still needs a strong, steady partner to weather the vicissitudes of life.

Nothing is forever. Hasmah has gone to meet her Maker, and may He shower her with the rewards of having led a good life. May He also give Mahathir all the strength he needs to carry on. - FMT

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