My feelings are all over the place. Mostly I feel sad. I miss her terribly. I wish that I can pick up the iPad and give her a buzz early in the morning. Our conversations were simple. What did she eat. What did Asher do. What am I cooking today.
My eyes wandered around my bedroom when I went back to Singapore earlier. It has changed now. It felt empty. Her serene smiley photo looked at me. My graduation photo standing proud on her cabinet. Ever since I was 3 days old, I was under her care and supervision. I slept in the same room as her till I was 16 years old- and even then, I shared a room with her whenever I come back to visit. Her room was mine and vice versa.
Thoughts of “Why did I not pick up her symptoms earlier” haunt me from time to time. Before our trip to Bali, I would ring her everyday. While we were in Bali, I rang her twice. The weekend we were back, I spoke to her on Friday and recall her saying she wasn’t feeling well. Reassuring me that she will be ok, she went to see the GP and came back telling me that GP said her digestive system was weak and she is to drink more fluid and rest. I spoke to her on Sunday again, with my mother and I agreeing that it’s time to make a trip to the hospital. She was jovial and said she was preparing to have a shower before heading to the local hospital.
That was the last long conversation we had.
Deep down, I knew it was a matter of time. The past year leading to her passing has been tough. She was pushed and had a fracture. She was in and out of the hospital 3-4 times for illnesses that she conquered over and over. She was fighting for time.
I treasure all my time with her. I’m the lucky one. Being her grand daughter, I benefited from her attention and time. I was in a very privileged position to know her. Beneath her “fierceness”, was her generosity, humour, kindness and warmth. She showed through her actions. Family member needing some cash flow? She bought food. Mum being unwell, she made soups. She encouraged me through university despite her sometimes old fashioned comments about how girls does not need higher education. She stood proudly next to me and bought me flowers at my doctorate graduation ceremony.
Her passing has left an emptiness in my life and heart. A missing piece. Life goes on and I know she would want me to live better. That was why she worked hard- for the next generations to have better.
Grandmother likes bread. She would have it almost every morning. It was soft, easy to digest.I have been experimenting for a little while now and found that psyllium husk makes this clean loaf more “bread like”. What would she say I wonder if I make her this bread? I’m guessing she would say it’s more dense that what she is used to. Nevertheless, she would chomp it down with real butter. That’s what thing I learnt from her. Butter always makes bread taste better.