Returning home after twenty days of less-than-gruelling training in the chilly environment of Southern Taiwan, I was not prepared for the heartbreaking news that long awaited me, even when I first dialled home on the 8th of May. I remember calling home that day due to a hiatus in between my summary exercises 1 and 2, all ready to spring my parents a surprise call after ten days of separation. The call went through smoothly, and I delivered all I had bottled up for the past week, not forgetting to wish my dad for his birthday, which coincidentally fell on that same day. Never did it occur to me how extraordinary it actually was that my entire family was available on the phone on a Thursday afternoon. Given the relative buzz of study and work, their schedules are practically full week in week out. In fact, they were actually carrying grandma's ashes out of the columbarium at the moment when my call came. I learnt that my aunt was frantically forbidding of my parents to break the news to me, given that my training would be thus disrupted. I have no idea if it was a coincidence or simply the work of heavens, that I had called right when the proceedings were coming to an end. 

Upon my arrival back to Singapore, my parents finally broke the news to me on the 18th of May, twelve days after her passing. She had finally succumbed to a long fight with renal failure and a case of hypertension. However prepared I was for this, I could not help it when tears welled up in my eyes. I could not accept the cold hard truth that grandma was gone for good. As I type on displaying a composed demeanour, I know I must stay strong because she wouldn't want us to grieve for too long. I could say that she was more prepared for this than anyone else. She must have had a nightmare of sorts because she stated that she did not want her ashes to be scattered into the sea for fear of being eaten by fishes. She even had a joint-fund ready much earlier because she knew that the funeral expenses were pretty steep, which came in handy when the time finally came. Her final place next to grandpa in Aljunied was already in process of development bar for the pictures because she had already prepared for her own when grandpa passed on more than twenty years ago. What else can we do but applaud the sheer strength and willpower she had, that pure heart that was never afraid of death, who took it all in her stride.

I know I will never really get over the loss of grandma, given that it is the first time I have lost someone so dear to me. And the exact coincidence that this had to happen when I was overseas, that I did not even have the chance to pay my last respects. How unfilial it was of me that I did not make time to visit her more often. Regret will always linger on in the back of my mind. The thousands and thousands of "what ifs" will always play back, coming back to haunt me everytime. What if I had just spent more time with her? What if I had made an effort to make her recognise me even with her senile dementia? What if we had given in to her requests to smoke, not knowing it would be her last? What if we didn't act like cowards and run off everytime she wanted a smoke and made a scene? 

Day 49 will then allow me to pay my last respects to her, whom I presume is in a better place now, without the pain, hurt or regret. She is finally back together with grandpa after being separated for all those years. She can finally smile in heaven now. The days of suffering are over. But I know I will miss her so much. The grandma who never fails to protect us from the unforgiving cane when we get naughty at times. The grandma who gets up so early to prepare our favourite lor bak when we visit on the weekends. The grandma who showers us with so much love until she contracted senile dementia. The grandma who never fails to "upsize" our red packets even when she does't have enough for herself. Thank you ma ma, for all that you are. You would have been ninety-seven this year. I love you and you will be dearly missed. Rest in peace. 

Mdm Lee Ker Teu
1917-2014

Although
death has separated us physically
Faith and love
have bound us eternally.
Though we cannot see you
We know you are here with us
in our every thought
as we think about you each day.
Though we cannot touch you
We feel the warmth of your smile
As we turn the page
to a new chapter in our lives.

One of the rare occasions I actually see her smile.

Taken on one of our visits with dad.