1st June

It was a Monday and it happened to be a public holiday, a replacement holiday for the 31st May, a Kaamatan Holiday. Tondu, who came for her usual weekend visit on the previous Saturday, stayed on at Tintap for that Monday because some members of the extended family from my side had earlier promised to come for a casual visit. It was also a Gawai holiday in Sarawak and the Kunjins were around in Kota Kinabalu.

Velvet, a young happy lodger, almost a core-owner and permanent resident at Tintap Farm, had earlier given birth. Her sisters, Marsha and Linda, stayed with her in Tintap Farm all along. While Velvet was already a nursing mother, her sisters too were both on their family way. I went to pay Velvet a visit. Marsha and Linda, without asking me for permission, tagged along with me. I did not mind at all for I loved them both too. It was somewhat a prolonged visit as, at that time, I knew I was not going to be late for anything and at that time too, the sun was still in the East. With Velvet and her sisters I can never overstay their welcome. Tondu was at the back of the farmhouse doing things she thought she had to do. I did not bother her with verbal inputs of Velvet’s condition as she was not in her good book anyway, so to speak.

I was very particular in the taking of my pills and sometimes I adjusted the pharmacy’s instructions to suit to my own personal convenience. That morning I rightly took the captopril 500mg and the metoprolol 100mg before breakfast. But together with those before-food pills I also took my after-food metformin 500mg. Remotely, I was thinking that I should take in something in the form of a breakfast within the half hour time that morning.

Sadam came in for something that morning. I had a big cup of Nescafe-3-in-1 with him. As a breakfast it was considered very scanty as an intake of food. It was all right for a social drink when friends came in for a visit. But I rested it as my breakfast for that morning. When Sadam had gone back that was the time when I went to see Velvet. I thought I saw her expressed great pleasure in my visit. Actually I did not expect her to be so productive but she favoured me with six. I stroke her head and spoke to her in simple English, telling her not to move around too much in her condition. It was the 7th time she changed her place. She must have been tired carrying around the ‘loves of her heart’. Yes, she had six little blighters!

I must have squatted down too long next to her for when I stood up the world seemed to tumble while turning around fast…very fast. I thought I saw many stars in my dimming milky way. My eyebrows and other facial muscles components quivered and my vision dimmed. My legs seemed to give way but I still had the presence of mind to grab the nearest shed post. The post did not help me for I grabbed it, it did not grab me. I had blacked out.

I had no way of knowing how long I actually had been in that state of sure-peaceful absence. When I came around, I was surprised to realise that I found myself full length lying on the ground among the protruding rambutan roots and next to some ancient broken must-be burial jar pieces. Feeling self conscious and sort of ashamed I quickly picked myself up, brushing away the dirt off my shirt. My body might have quivered a bit for I was quite soiled with dirt and dead leave pieces. I looked around to ensure no one saw me. Sure enough, I was alone. I felt so cool, cooler than a cool misty morning. I also felt seemingly so far away from any worldly noise for I thought it was so quiet. Not a soul was walking on the often frequented road nearby. Even Tondu who was easily within earshot did not hear or notice me. Could she have run to my aid if she saw that little episode? Or, could she have only gingerly and laughingly walked to me? Or, could she be capable of pretending not see anything and looked the other way? I wondered. If I were given the opportunity to choose one of my own above three suppositions, I would have gladly chosen the second one … the walking slowly and laughingly to me, to counteract

I was in tolerable lower left side chest pain that day … and ever since, yet I did not clearly indicate it. I had meant to see the doctor that week but I decided not to for I thought I could grow it out, so to speak. But on 11th June, after 10 days, the pain had persisted and intensified. I decided to go to KL … not KL, the faraway KL but Klinik Luyang. I was assigned to see Dr Farukh Ihsan Ahmad. She issued me a PER-SS-RA 301 to Putatan Klinik for a chest x-ray. I told the Dr that I was not energetic enough to make the trip, as I was alone, and requested for her alternative treatment. She was so good by not enforcing her opinion. She therefore gave me an ointment for the bruised part and pain killer to swallow twice a day.

But, circumstances forced me to go to Putatan Klinik for a chest x-ray on 15th June. I had to take that x-ray to complete the medical package requirement for my firearm licence renewal application. Tania obliged me with her most needed company as she was driving arista. When I got my image x-ray negative I brought it to the Dr I was assigned to at Room 18 on 16th afternoon, only the next day. She did not even look at the negative x-ray. I was not pleased for she did not even react to item 4 on the Police Form. I told her that I was taking the medical examination for a purpose. She blurted out that she had signed the form. Knowing that she was in command of the situation, I decided that the power of an authority signature must be acknowledged. Like a meek fool I accepted everything at that, thanked her and left.

On 17th June it was my time to see another Dr for my once-in-3-months appointment. That was for my Diabetes and Hypertension treatment. When I narrated to the Dr that little episode on 1st June, he said, “If it resulted to some broken bones, you would not be able to move at all. And, one thing, it happened quite a while ago.” I took his additional note to mean that if anything would have been so bad, like death, then it could have already happened. I appreciated his manly comments and was pleased on hearing an opinion like that. He gave me some pain killer tablets.

In a matter of a short time, spaced by a few days in between, I managed to professionally see three medical professionals. All three displayed their different professional mannerisms. If I liked the 1st young lady, I also liked the old man, the man who told me that I had no broken ribs. The doctor with her precious signature might be called by the Penampang OCPD to verify what she had actually signed for lawfully on the Police Form. On hind-sights it is thought that death could happen so easily. I am reminded by James 4:17 where it, among other points mentioned, likens life to that of only a puff of smoke. When I fell to the ground I thought I heard a thud. I thought I also heard myself made a little groan. I did not feel any pain. Should I have knocked my heard on something harder than my skull, it could have been fatal. Should I have died due to that fall, then I could have woken up in spirit only in the next world. Was I prepared to “go beyond the sunset” on that 1st June morning? I could have just made it to 65 years 5 months and 2 days! Comparatively, that had been quite a long journey already. But, no doubt, others have lived longer. God, as always, is great. He did not yet allow eternity to begin for me. He must have said, “Not yet, Joe, not yet. Go back and continue to honour and give glory to my name for I am your God and you are my boy.” I always thank Him in all and for all circumstances.

Fish Dish

At Vian’s dinner party, the one he held as a thanksgiving and as a way to cherish good memories of a particular group of departed family members in his lineage, quite a number of relatives and friends were present. Their attendances were probably mostly solicited through the now-considered life-line facility, the mobile phone sms connectivity.

Beautiful house! Vian’s Hilltop Mompoit Residence, snugly perched more on a hill-side rather than on a hilltop, faces the not-so-distant St. Michael’s Church building. It had been occasionally observed that the sun seemed to set behind that building on some generous evening. That particular evening atmosphere was simply marvellous as there had been no heavy downpour for about a week or so already. The quests were all engaged in their own discussions pertaining to their own particular interests. Quite a number of heads turned when Marcellous, a retired federal government officer, arrived. Someone loudly commented, “Look at him! He is a picture of such a happy carefree individual without any trace of worldly worries.” He was indeed all in happy smiles, approaching with both hands tucked in his shorts’ pockets.

People knew how to read signs, general signs which needed not be displayed but yet they were there in the air, so to speak. The general conversational noise died down as the host, Vian, started to address those present. He welcomed with thanks the presence of all, outlining the purposes of the evening gathering. He welcomed with special mention of his sister, Sister Rosalie’s Home Visit from the Lord’s temporary outreach assignment for her in Minado, Selawasi, Indonesia. She was then invited to lead the specially prepared evening prayer for the occasion.

Dinner naturally followed the corporate grace before a meal which was also led by Sister Rosalie. In her, perhaps, carefully selected yet spontaneous prayer words of thanks for the food He has given and in her invocation for God’s showers of blessings for all those present and, through unavoidable circumstances, otherwise, an attentive part-taker would have had glimpses of man’s thankful adorations and God’s appeasing kindness and grace to the world’s lacking. All the other dishes were there, dagok, (daging wogok) danuk, (daging manuk) and others. Udang was in abundance, vegetables, too, were in multiple varieties, but fish dish, notably, lacking. The food could have been catered for. Ample supply of rich and good food for the not so many mouths present! BBQ hotdogs, chicken wings and parts and dagok, if not, lamb ribs loaded a square side-table. Seeing the rich and nutritious food and conscious of my open tendencies to sometimes succumb to a temptation for another mouthful when I knew I had enough, I silently added my own plea to the Lord. “…and let it not be detrimental to my health, rather let it nourish the body so that I can continue to use it for the greater glory of Your name here on earth …” And, sure enough, I did not feel at all the urge to even approach the loaded square side-table!

Earlier on, Marcellous, Danny and I were exchanging verbal notes on tilapia rearing. Danny was fretting and fuming with guised wonders as to how his fish could disappear from their ponds. I shared with him a philosophical theory in that they were not considered wasted if they had indeed disappeared from their ponds. I summarised that it was only a simple case of them going down the wrong throats! Marcellous, as usual, was in his happy smiles!

If there had been time before the dinner or after the dinner I could have convince those freshwater farm fish lovers that fish was and is still indeed good food for the brain. But there was no time, or that precious commodity, time, was limited or not well managed …. What better time would have it been to introduce some clever facts! The host might have been re-enlightened, convinced and prompted to put some free fish dishes on his dinner table for all diners in future.

I could have completely shared with them what was dished out by Leeds, Spring 2007 issue, pertaining to its dinner party guide to the brain. I could have, among others, re-emphasized the fact, rather than myth, that fish is indeed good for the brain. But, save the rest of the talking points for next chance!

Your brain is made up of approximately 100 billion brain cells, or neurons, and about 10 times that number (one trillion) of support cells, or glia. The three parts to the neurons are: Cell body, Axons (fibres extending out from the cell body carrying impulses) and Dendrites (which connect with other cells and enable neurons to “talk” to each

other). Neurons work by transmitting electrochemical signals between

themselves. Cell bodies form what is known as grey matter. Axons run through an insulating sheath of myelin, made of fat hence the term white matter.

Fish Dish

At Vian’s dinner party, the one he held as a thanksgiving and as a way to cherish good memories of a particular group of departed family members in his lineage, quite a number of relatives and friends were present. Their attendances were probably mostly solicited through the now-considered life-line facility, the mobile phone sms connectivity.

Beautiful house! Vian’s Hilltop Mompoit Residence, snugly perched more on a hill-side rather than on a hilltop, faces the not-so-distant St. Michael’s Church building. It had been occasionally observed that the sun seemed to set behind that building on some generous evening. That particular evening atmosphere was simply marvellous as there had been no heavy downpour for about a week or so already. The quests were all engaged in their own discussions pertaining to their own particular interests. Quite a number of heads turned when Marcellous, a retired federal government officer, arrived. Someone loudly commented, “Look at him! He is a picture of such a happy carefree individual without any trace of worldly worries.” He was indeed all in happy smiles, approaching with both hands tucked in his shorts’ pockets.

People knew how to read signs, general signs which needed not be displayed but yet they were there in the air, so to speak. The general conversational noise died down as the host, Vian, started to address those present. He welcomed with thanks the presence of all, outlining the purposes of the evening gathering. He welcomed with special mention of his sister, Sister Rosalie’s Home Visit from the Lord’s temporary outreach assignment for her in Minado, Selawasi, Indonesia. She was then invited to lead the specially prepared evening prayer for the occasion.

Dinner naturally followed the corporate grace before a meal which was also led by Sister Rosalie. In her, perhaps, carefully selected yet spontaneous prayer words of thanks for the food He has given and in her invocation for God’s showers of blessings for all those present and, through unavoidable circumstances, otherwise, an attentive part-taker would have had glimpses of man’s thankful adorations and God’s appeasing kindness and grace to the world’s lacking. All the other dishes were there, dagok, (daging wogok) danuk, (daging manuk) and others. Udang was in abundance, vegetables, too, were in multiple varieties, but fish dish, notably, lacking. The food could have been catered for. Ample supply of rich and good food for the not so many mouths present! BBQ hotdogs, chicken wings and parts and dagok, if not, lamb ribs loaded a square side-table. Seeing the rich and nutritious food and conscious of my open tendencies to sometimes succumb to a temptation for another mouthful when I knew I had enough, I silently added my own plea to the Lord. “…and let it not be detrimental to my health, rather let it nourish the body so that I can continue to use it for the greater glory of Your name here on earth …” And, sure enough, I did not feel at all the urge to even approach the loaded square side-table!

Earlier on, Marcellous, Danny and I were exchanging verbal notes on tilapia rearing. Danny was fretting and fuming with guised wonders as to how his fish could disappear from their ponds. I shared with him a philosophical theory in that they were not considered wasted if they had indeed disappeared from their ponds. I summarised that it was only a simple case of them going down the wrong throats! Marcellous, as usual, was in his happy smiles!

If there had been time before the dinner or after the dinner I could have convince those freshwater farm fish lovers that fish was and is still indeed good food for the brain. But there was no time, or that precious commodity, time, was limited or not well managed …. What better time would have it been to introduce some clever facts! The host might have been re-enlightened, convinced and prompted to put some free fish dishes on his dinner table for all diners in future.

I could have completely shared with them what was dished out by Leeds, Spring 2007 issue, pertaining to its dinner party guide to the brain. I could have, among others, re-emphasized the fact, rather than myth, that fish is indeed good for the brain. But, save the rest of the talking points for next chance!

Your brain is made up of approximately 100 billion brain cells, or neurons, and about 10 times that number (one trillion) of support cells, or glia. The three parts to the neurons are: Cell body, Axons (fibres extending out from the cell body carrying impulses) and Dendrites (which connect with other cells and enable neurons to “talk” to each

other). Neurons work by transmitting electrochemical signals between themselves. Cell bodies form what is known as grey matter. Axons run through an insulating sheath of myelin, made of fat hence the term white matter. ”

Fish Dish

At Vian’s dinner party, the one he held as a thanksgiving and as a way to cherish good memories of a particular group of departed family members in his lineage, quite a number of relatives and friends were present. Their attendances were probably mostly solicited through the now-considered life-line facility, the mobile phone sms connectivity.

Beautiful house! Vian’s Hilltop Mompoit Residence, snugly perched more on a hill-side rather than on a hilltop, faces the not-so-distant St. Michael’s Church building. It had been occasionally observed that the sun seemed to set behind that building on some generous evening. That particular evening atmosphere was simply marvellous as there had been no heavy downpour for about a week or so already. The quests were all engaged in their own discussions pertaining to their own particular interests. Quite a number of heads turned when Marcellous, a retired federal government officer, arrived. Someone loudly commented, “Look at him! He is a picture of such a happy carefree individual without any trace of worldly worries.” He was indeed all in happy smiles, approaching with both hands tucked in his shorts’ pockets.

People knew how to read signs, general signs which needed not be displayed but yet they were there in the air, so to speak. The general conversational noise died down as the host, Vian, started to address those present. He welcomed with thanks the presence of all, outlining the purposes of the evening gathering. He welcomed with special mention of his sister, Sister Rosalie’s Home Visit from the Lord’s temporary outreach assignment for her in Minado, Selawasi, Indonesia. She was then invited to lead the specially prepared evening prayer for the occasion.

Dinner naturally followed the corporate grace before a meal which was also led by Sister Rosalie. In her, perhaps, carefully selected yet spontaneous prayer words of thanks for the food He has given and in her invocation for God’s showers of blessings for all those present and, through unavoidable circumstances, otherwise, an attentive part-taker would have had glimpses of man’s thankful adorations and God’s appeasing kindness and grace to the world’s lacking. All the other dishes were there, dagok, (daging wogok) danuk, (daging manuk) and others. Udang was in abundance, vegetables, too, were in multiple varieties, but fish dish, notably, lacking. The food could have been catered for. Ample supply of rich and good food for the not so many mouths present! BBQ hotdogs, chicken wings and parts and dagok, if not, lamb ribs loaded a square side-table. Seeing the rich and nutritious food and conscious of my open tendencies to sometimes succumb to a temptation for another mouthful when I knew I had enough, I silently added my own plea to the Lord. “…and let it not be detrimental to my health, rather let it nourish the body so that I can continue to use it for the greater glory of Your name here on earth …” And, sure enough, I did not feel at all the urge to even approach the loaded square side-table!

Earlier on, Marcellous, Danny and I were exchanging verbal notes on tilapia rearing. Danny was fretting and fuming with guised wonders as to how his fish could disappear from their ponds. I shared with him a philosophical theory in that they were not considered wasted if they had indeed disappeared from their ponds. I summarised that it was only a simple case of them going down the wrong throats! Marcellous, as usual, was in his happy smiles!

If there had been time before the dinner or after the dinner I could have convince those freshwater farm fish lovers that fish was and is still indeed good food for the brain. But there was no time, or that precious commodity, time, was limited or not well managed …. What better time would have it been to introduce some clever facts! The host might have been re-enlightened, convinced and prompted to put some free fish dishes on his dinner table for all diners in future.

I could have completely shared with them what was dished out by Leeds, Spring 2007 issue, pertaining to its dinner party guide to the brain. I could have, among others, re-emphasized the fact, rather than myth, that fish is indeed good for the brain. But, save the rest of the talking points for next chance!

Your brain is made up of approximately 100 billion brain cells, or neurons, and about 10 times that number (one trillion) of support cells, or glia. The three parts to the neurons are: Cell body, Axons (fibres extending out from the cell body carrying impulses) and Dendrites (which connect with other cells and enable neurons to “talk” to each

other). Neurons work by transmitting electrochemical signals between themselves. Cell bodies form what is known as grey matter. Axons run through an insulating sheath of myelin, made of fat hence the term white matter. ”

Terkenal or Famous

Where ever he went, he was terkenal. He was famous… all in good ways of course! When he went to Sandakan, to Tenom, to Tuaran, to Inanam, in Penampang, he was well known. Who did not know him personally or, at least, heard of him? An old man, visualised as a jolly-good fellow, who was a member of the then Police Field Force of the pre Malaysia era, during the British Colonial rule of North Borneo, now, Sabah, but, of course, now gone, .. peace be upon his soul, .. was naturally well remembered by those who were privileged to have known him. Memories of him, his witty and almost comical reactions to things around him or said to him, both by the young and old, remained cherished by his grandchildren, so to speak. He had no direct grandchildren as his only child, it was said, did not hold on to life for long, again, so to speak. This old man was loaded with gimat and the like, and, by natural and social Kadazandusun living standard, the off-springs of people of that so called calibre did not stay on earth long. That child did not survive to adulthood. His brothers or sisters, as narrated by Kondu Pilaku, a great grandchild of one of his sisters, did have many children whom he called grandchildren and who all called him aki, grandfather. Kampung Mangkaladon, a kampung beyond the blue mountains, so to speak, as seen north-eastwards from Donggongon town tamu ground, was Ganggal’s original kampung. Since he was a member of the PFF in those days, he must have then temporarily stayed at police barracks and stations during his employment days. He naturally only went back to his roots when his employment terms expired. It was normal for PFF personnel to sign up for only so many years of service. Their signed-up terms could have not involved any monthly financial benefits upon retirement. “I did not hear of any instance when he went to get his pension money”, said Pilaku. He had indeed experienced some of the realised developments which did come by after independence as he only passed on, it was said, in post Y2K era. The present Penampang-Tambunan sealed road and the road to Pukak in Kiulu were frequented by this active old man. Where ever he was, he was always seen with his juli, believed to contain his personal things. His trouser’s pockets might have been too small for what he used to carry with him all around. It was reputed that he used to carry around with him one or two bottles of air bingong. Earlier on he had visited his sister, Lombitoi, and family, in kampung Tintap. He had stayed on with them for quite a while so much so that all his grandchildren had come to fall in love with him. His grandchildren would all sit down around him listening to his tales of his personal life’s experiences and adventures. As he told his stories, the children sat around him with their mouths agape, their eyes unblinking. This old man must have been a natural story-teller. He could captivate his listeners. No doubt, as others might do, too, he had added other interesting details to his tales to make listening pleasant for adult minds. To his young grandchildren his tales were fantastic truths of unimaginable magnitudes! Sadam, a younger great grandson, still marvelled at his grandfather’s tales of his catch of a giant centipede of one finger span length rib-bones on either sides of its body! There was also a time when this grandfather of theirs was running passed them. Then they asked, “Oonu titangkus-tangkus nu dii oi Aki?” (Why are you running, Aki?) “Oonu kanu, au ko kokito dilo Rogon momogusa dogo?” (You ask why… can’t you see the devils chasing me ?) He was loaded with the “whatever he had in his juli”. He could indeed be living in the twilight zone … his own willed twilight zone. He could have indeed caught that giant centipede … a twilight zone centipede which he then ‘twilightedly’ kept in his juli! The harmless devils were his friends and among friends running after each other in joyful play was a common scene. That could have been the witnessed scenario! It was only long after this grand old man had passed on and the then young great grandchildren had grown older that it was realised … all what he had said, all what he had advised, could not be believed, could not be followed. Among the many dozens great grandchildren, when one became naughty and narrated something which was far from what was factual, others would be heard to give advice, “Ada pinggaaganggal!”. Long after his visit to kampung Tintap, he happened to visit kampung Mantob, a kampung further up kampung Pukak in the Kiulu district. He was visiting the Domidal family. That family, too, was very much a family to him. Joy, Domidal’s eldest, and Pilaku, from kampung Tintap, were cousins since Pilaku’s father, Garib, was Domidal’s brother. Those two brothers got separated from each other when they were still very young boys. At one of Ganggal’s visits to the Domidals, he mentioned to them, “Haro kaaka bo do tobpinai dokoyu hilood Penampang.” (Your relative, it was heard, was living in Penampang). Although he knew for sure that Domidal’s brother was in Penampang, he still chose to use the doubt denoting word, “kaaka”. That prompted Joy’s mother to get assurance as to the truth of his revelation, fully knowing that what he could be saying could not be always true. “Otopot kopio oi Gaman?” (Truly, Gaman?) “Oo, bo!” (Yes, lah). “Nga’, mugad tokou pogihum diolo’ hiloo’d Penampang do korikot ku kaagu’ dohiti’.” (We would only make the trip to Penampang during my next visit.) As a way of making conversation, Joy’s mother told Ganggal that he had better be true for she would charge him for petrol cost if the trip ended up in nought. Ganggal released his own joyful style of laughter which further confirmed Domidal’s wife’s doubts. A few weeks from that good-news-revealing visit, Ganggal came to Domidal’s residence again for the promised Penampang trip. He had with him a quarter full bottle of air bingong. He was in the process of sipping thriftily its contents. He made sure he still had some left for the next morning. The Domidals refrained from such drinking practice as they were barred by their beliefs. Ganggal did not permit the trip done the same day as he said, “Mibok katuu tokou’d kosuabon suuwab.” (We would only start tomorrow morning). Joy, the would-be driver, got the indication that the place they were heading for must be very far away. Sure enough, early the next morning Ganggal requested for breakfast served. He and Joy had their good fill. They together left, Joy at the wheel. Knowing that they were heading for a kampong where he could almost swim in air bingong, he lavishly consumed his bottle. That sent him to sleep for the most part of the journey from kampong Mantob to Penampang district. Earlier on during the journey he would tell Joy of the different kampong names on the way. When they came to Inanam town he told Joy to take the Bambangan by-pass to save journey time. Joy was well-travelled too and told Ganggal that to reach Donggongon town was to turn right and to reach Tambunan was to turn left. Ganggal said that to turn left was the right direction. Joy’s intention was to get some buah tangan since they were visiting some long-lost relatives. Ganggal, in so many words, told Joy that they were heading for a relative’s house which surely had some rice to spare. In the end they did not go to Donggongon town but turned Tambunan way. From that point, the old man went to sleep. At each road junction Joy would ask, “Osudu po aki?” (Is it still far, aki?) In his near sleeping state he was heard saying, “Osoduu po”. Such question and answer were repeated many times until they reached Gunung Emas Hilltop Resort. “Odoi! Odoi! Odoi!, tuuk ku po dia’! Osomok tokou no’d Tambunan diti!,” Ganggal almost shouted as he pointed out to his driver the jungle shortcut track he used to take when he returned to his kampong. “Nokuro iri oi Aki?”, Joy asked. “Notusan batu no o kinotolibon dito!”, he said pretending to be quite angry. He fully knew that he was the greater party to the whole folly. Joy deposited him in one of the sheds where he had kampong men and women friends selling their land produce to road travellers. That was an opportunity for him to socialise while Joy rushed further to the Resort area. He wanted to top up his diminished supply of diesel fuel! They meekly drove down the mountain to kampong Moyog, kampong Kibunut, kampong Rugading, kampong Sangai Sangai then kampong Babagon. They took the left hand turning at the Podsupuan and headed for kampong Tintap, to Garib’s house. When they arrived at the house, he told Joy to wait in the vehicle while he went down to scout around. The household were all out, save for young Sadam. He had that old man’s gut to ask Sadam to go and call them home. That was the beginning of a reunion of two brothers who had parted at childhood until both had families of their own.