By Peter Lee
I attended a friend’s daughter’s wedding years ago, and what I witnessed that evening reminded me of how fragile life can be. As we approach the end of every year, we often receive a flurry of wedding invitations and this one was no different.
As usual, guests were taking turns on stage to showcase their singing talents. After the second dish was served, an elderly couple went up to perform a duet. They sang beautifully, and the crowd applauded warmly. But just as the applause faded, the elderly man suddenly collapsed on stage.
Chaos ensued. Relatives and friends rushed forward, and one guest immediately began performing CPR. The man’s heart had stopped. Fifteen long minutes later, an ambulance arrived and rushed him to the hospital. Later that night, my friend told me that the man was pronounced dead on arrival.
Once the ambulance left, the master of ceremonies quietly announced a short ten-minute break. The hall fell completely silent , a silence so heavy that even the clinking of glasses felt out of place. When the emcee resumed the programme and invited guests to continue singing, none of the older guests stepped forward. I suppose they were all thinking that life is indeed precious. For the rest of the night, it was the younger guests who filled the stage with songs.
Having witnessed something like that for the first time, especially at a wedding, I thought it would be the only such incident that year. But I was wrong. Just before the year ended, I was shocked and deeply saddened by the sudden death of a close friend killed in a tragic mountain biking accident, barely a week after we last spoke. His Christmas message to me and my family turned out to be his last. He was in his mid-forties, at the peak of his career, with a young family and a bright future ahead. His loss hit me hard. I couldn’t help but think, the good really do die young.
These two incidents served as powerful reminders of how uncertain and fragile life truly is. Death does not wait for old age . It can strike anyone, at any time. As I look back, I like to believe that both of them have gone to a better place. I can only hope that before they left, they had their affairs in order and had written their wills, leaving clear instructions for their loved ones.
But what if they hadn’t?
If the deceased was a non-Muslim
Take the elderly man who collapsed on stage, for example. If he had passed away without a will, his family would first need to apply for a Letter of Administration (L.A.) to manage his estate. This process can be complicated especially if the family has difficulty obtaining death certificates of his late parents, which are required to prove that they are no longer entitled under the law.
Under the Malaysian Distribution Act 1958 (amended 1997), when a person dies intestate (without a will), their estate is distributed as follows:
- ¼ to the spouse,
- ¼ to the parents, and
- ½ to the children.
Only after these lawful beneficiaries appoint an administrator can the family begin the process of distributing the estate. If the deceased’s parents had already passed away, the distribution changes to ⅓ for the spouse and ⅔ for the children — but again, proof of the parents’ death is essential before the process can even begin.
If the deceased was a Muslim
If the same situation involved a Muslim family, the process would be different because inheritance for Muslims is governed by Faraid, the Islamic law of distribution under Syariah law.
When a Muslim passes away, up to one-third of the estate can be given through a wasiat.The remaining estate must then be distributed according to the fixed shares under Faraid. For example, if the deceased leaves behind a wife, parents, and children, the wife receives 1/8, the father and mother receive 1/6 each, and the balance goes to the children, with the sons receiving twice the share of the daughters.
Before any Muslim estate can be managed, the family must obtain a Faraid certificate from the Syariah Court to confirm who the heirs are and their portions. This document is then used to proceed with estate administration at institutions such as Amanah Raya, the High Court, or the Land Office.
While Faraid ensures fairness, the process can still take time or cause disputes, especially when there are many heirs or shared properties. That’s why Muslims are also encouraged to prepare a wasiat (Islamic will) to make things easier and clearer for their loved ones.
When no planning is done
Now consider the case of my late friend, who left behind a wife, minor children, and parents. Without a will, another complication could arise which is renunciation. His widow might feel that she should inherit everything so she could manage the family’s finances and care for the children. But under the law, the parents are still entitled to a share (¼). The widow would therefore have to request that her in-laws renounce their entitlement and whether they agree or not could easily become a source of misunderstanding and tension within the family.
This is the reality of intestacy which causes uncertainty, delay, and potential conflict. Assets get tied up, property titles become shared among many names, and with each passing generation, the list only grows longer.
That’s why it is always wise to have your will or wasiat prepared to save your loved ones from unnecessary hardship and disputes at a time when they should be grieving, not arguing.
As for me, after witnessing those two sudden losses within a short span of time, I can only say it was simply Too Much Heaven.