Grandma passed away on the 15th of December this year.

My mum was a real, proper busy woman then, with real reasons to be busy. So every holiday that we didn’t have a maid to look after me, I was shunted off to my grandparents’ place to be looked after. It wasn’t altogether bad, mind you, my grandparents doted on me, unlike my mother, and both of them operated those old-school mom-and pop shops that sells lollies and cream cookies in front of their rented long house/shop thing that gives me quick access to lollies and cookies beyond any kids’ imagination. My grandpa was always a little rough and gruff while my grandma might tell me off for doing things or threaten to call my mum – but I always, always get my way.

In other words, I was a real little shit who brought hell to them all in one small tiny cute package.

When I was about 5, things came to a head, sort of, that was really a catalyst for how my relatives viewed me in the future. I was reading “The Little Princess” in it’s easy to read, abbreviated version. The story where little Sarah who had a wealthy dad suddenly became a pauper and lost everything except a precious glass eyed doll that was the last present from her dad to her. The pictures in the book featured one of those traditional english dolls with, I presume, those glass eyes, porcelain and gorgeous gorgeous dresses. I pointed it out to grandpa, certain that I have seen something similar like that somewhere, and DEMANDED that I wanted it.

In the small country that that Muar was, and still is to a certain degree, there was no chance in hell back then that there was an exactly similar doll. Yet, after arguing with me mildly, grandpa went out to find that doll but came back empty handed. He CYCLED everywhere for me, and didn’t find it. Instead of being grateful that he cycled everywhere, me in my wonderful 5 years old form, kicked him in the shins – and it drew blood. One of my aunts saw and told me off but I remembered that I stomped off, screaming indignantly like I deserved some bloody apology.

In the years that followed, grandpa and I chat less and less. I am not too sure if it’s because of that or because as I was growing up, I feel less connected to my grandparents. I didn’t know how to communicate to them either, as I started feeling more and more… different.

Grandpa died when I was about 10. I cried my eyes out, wondered why he couldn’t just wait a little bit for me so I could apologise for being a dick of a 5 years old, and just wailed my hearts out. I wasn’t allowed to join the funeral procession for various reasons – I was young, I was sick and the weather sucked.

I was closer to grandpa than grandma. I still couldn’t relate to her nor communicate well with her. Yet, when I said something wrong, when my mum or my aunts tell me off, she was the one to give me a chance and defended me and protected me. Of course, if i was in the wrong, she would gently tell me off, or, if someone else is telling me off, she just hangs back quietly and let it roll. Then, when I sit there and sulk or cry, she had just tell me to let it go and move on. In a very typical fashion, I suppose, she was the soft off-set to grandpa that made them the perfect couple.

During chinese new years, there were a few occasions where I would make tang yuans with her and she had tell me more about my mum. Never pushing me to understand my mum, she spoke when I asked, but then she had also ask me how I was doing. The things that my mum never did, she did.

During a time when I was growing up real fast, she got worried that I was getting too thin, and heaped lots of food in my direction. On the converse side, she never really harassed me for putting on weight either.

In the last few years, since I have been in Australia, there was always a worry that I would never make it back for her funeral. Grandma was diagnosed with diabetes about a decade ago, and given 2 years to live. She lived way past that, including a robbery attempt while she was on a walk, and various other problems. About 5-6 years ago, she started losing a lot of weight. My grandma was only about 4 feet ish, there wasn’t already much to her and all that weight loss made her smaller and more fragile.

When I last saw her, she was more concerned about me than she was about herself. Always so giving, always so motherly. The problems I had at home, she never really dug into it like other people did.

In the intervening 5 years since, I have called her a few times. Each time, we had less and less to talk about, mostly because of my failure to use mandarin/teochew appropriately and thereby confusing her sometimes. Of course, because I called from overseas, she also tended to worry about the costs for me and also whether i was in trouble (thusly calling her). She never once pointed out she was sick – “I am just old”, was always her response.

Grandma died surrounded by those who loved and cared for her, with plenty of those dropping in in the 2 months leading up to her death. As someone who loves her and someone who understands the coldness of dying alone, that was more than I could hope for.

With the kindness of my aunts and uncle, I made it back for my grandma’s funeral, to say my final farewell. I can’t say there was no regrets, because I still did wish to be beside her when she passed on. There were a few things I wished I have done differently with my grandma. However, I also know, grandma will just tell me to forget it and move on.

With grandma’s passing, came yet another helping hand from her. It brought me to the grave that also held grandpa (complicated to explain, but I have never seen grandpa’s grave, just prayed to his ancestral tablet). It gave me a closure to my anger and grief for missing grandpa’s funeral procession, for not seeing his grave and much much more. In that instant, I was saying bye to the 2 people most important to my childhood, besides my parents. It was a more emotionally intense feeling, but it was a great release too.

There was also a realisation that time has inexorably moved forward. There’s no one to defend me anymore, but myself. I have grown up, that I knew, but then now I have no more grandparents.

 

Goodbye grandma and grandpa, thanks for showing me how to fish