Dearest my most beloved maternal grandmother,
Well, I know I’ve not been able to write out those six
letters to you in a letter without tearing up for many years now; I suppose the
same happening to me when I type the same six words just goes to show that my
total love for you has not diminished one iota in the ten years since you’ve
been gone.
It’s hard to believe that I’ll never hug your body to mine
ever again. Even though it’s been one whole decade sine God took you up to be
with Him forever, I can scarce comprehend that we’ll never meet on Earth again.
You were the one who raised me for the first four years of my life; when the
parents and I migrated over to Brisbane in 1990 October you came along for the
first six months to look after me while the parents attended TAFE to learn
English; in that half-year before you returned to Hong Kong to live with your
two other daughters you were so clever you managed to teach me how to recite
the entire Lord’s prayer in Cantonese. Lol, I could actually recite the Lord’s
Prayer in Cantonese before I learnt it in English!
Since I know you’re not a ‘siu hei’ (say that in Canto)
person, I know you’ll not blame me, but I’ve never forgiven myself – and will
probably most likely never forgive myself – for not being able to wheel myself
back to you on that final night when we left HK for the first time ten years
ago. We’d had a family dinner, and ‘twas time to say our goodbyes because we
were headed to the airport next. I stood up in my manual wheelchair and we were
hugging tightly; I was whispering to you to take care and that I loved you the
most, forever, no matter what when dad suddenly decided that I’d taken too long
holding you goodbye because he suddenly just pushed me back down into my manual
wheelchair and started pushing me away! I tried to put my right foot down and
turn the wheelchair back around and go to you; my right hand tried to grip the
wheel and stop it’s forward movement but what could I do, a wretchedly disabled
woman against a fully-grown, powerful man? In the end, all I could do was wave
goodbye to you, blow you endless kisses and hope beyond all hope that we’d meet
again very soon. Only without knowing it, I’d just held you in my arms for the
very last time …
I still remember when the call from Hong Kong
came to let us know that you’d taken ill. Back then, Home Modifications hadn’t
built me a bathroom yet and I was still having showers in the laundry; there
was a sink there and clever dad somehow connected a hose and a showerhead to
the sink so I could have a shower. Someone from Hong Kong
rang while I was showering. Mother answered it, and after hearing the news
immediately flew back to Hong Kong to look after you for
one month. Just before she returned, I remember speaking with you on the phone.
We discussed how you’d taught me the Lord’s Prayer when I was only 3.5 years
old and when you suggested “Let’s recite it together,” we immediately did. I
still remember sharing on Facebook/posting in my daily events blog
(taleofepic4.blogspot.com) that I hoped we’d get to recite that many more times
together in the future. Yes, I knew by then you were suffering from terminal
stage four lung cancer but I assumed it wasn’t a life/death matter yet because
when mother returned to Brisbane Hong Kong
to be with you.
Shortly afterwards came that fateful night/morning. The
ringing phone did waken me, but because either parent had answered it almost
immediately I’d presumed ‘twas nothing untoward and was cuddling Bear Bear
(don’t think mother had retired him yet) and falling asleep back in bed.
Suddenly my bedroom door opened, the light was flicked on, both
parents entered the room and mother climbed into the bed beside me. “Em,” she
said, stroking my face and holding out the phone, “Grandma’s going to heaven
now, so take the phone and say bye to her. She won’t be able to reply you, but
she can hear you.” I swear, for that second, my heart *stopped*. What complete
bullsh*t was this?! Sure, I’d accepted that grandma wouldn’t be long be for the
Earth, but there was plenty of time for us to fly back to Hong Kong and say our
final farewells to her, surely?? With an unsteady arm, I grasped the
outstretched phone, and my quavering voice spoke into the receiver. “Por por
(in Canto: maternal grandma)? It’s Xiao B (in Canto: little baby; ‘twas my
nickname @ home with mother’s side of the family) here. Mother says you are
going to heaven now so I’ve gotta say bye to you now. I was hoping I’d be able
to come say bye to you in person but I suppose that God needs you more than I
do right now. Not that I really understand how that’s possible, but yeah. I
hope God looks after you well in heaven; maybe some of your friends are already
up there waiting for you? Most of all, I hope God will lemme be reunited with you up in heaven one
day … but until then, you take care, okay, grandma? Know that I will love you
and miss you the most, the best, no matter what, forever and forever and
forever …” My voice prolly cracked at the moment; who could keep their voice
steady at such a time like this? Mother removed the phone from me, motioned for
dad to look after me, and exited the room to speak of funeral arrangements with
the nurse.
Dad cuddled me in bed, holding me tight and promising that
I’d be reunited one day in heaven with my most beloved maternal grandma. I got
a pinkie-promise from him on this, so if when my earthly life finishes, I meet
God and He decides He wants to send me to hell forever for whatever reason, I’m
telling Him I’m not going until he lets me see my most beloved maternal grandma
and check that she’s okay.
Dad stayed with me for awhile, then, presuming I’d fallen
asleep, silently exited my room. But of course I was still awake, trying to
wrap the monumental happening that had just taken place around my head. My most
beloved grandma was dead. There was nothing I could do but silently cry
myself to sleep.
Mother surely must be a much stronger person than me; she
actually went to work in the morning! It was a Saturday. Back then, Kayla hadn’t
been born yet, hence why mother had gotten Vincent the bloody to come gimme a
torture session every Saturday afternoon. That morning, when mother entered my
room again to gimme some eye drops before leaving for her half day’s work, I
told her I seriously wasn’t up to facing Vincent for a physio session that
afternoon. Thankfully, she understood and said she’d tell dad to ring Vincent
to cancel the appointment.
On Saturdays, a carer from Kyabra comes to help me up at 10am . Back in 2010, ‘twas a Filipino woman
called Maritess, or Tess for short. When she comes and is helping me get
dressed for the day I suppose she notices how subdued I am that morning because
she asks me what’s wrong. Lol, turns out Tess is a very emotional person too
because once I tell her my most beloved grandmother had just passed away the
night before because she immediately tears up! Not me, however. After crying
myself to sleep the night before, I’d woken and decided I’d not cry over
grandma anymore because tears were pointless and wouldn’t bring her back; if
they could; I’d cry the house down!
The afternoon is spent e-mailing friends, family and other
contacts, explaining I’d be away for the next few weeks while overseas. I also
unsubscribed from the two daily devotions that I followed plus other weekly
newsletters I’ve signed up to, knowing that I’d not have time to read them
while overseas.
A church family friend who lives literally three streets
away drove us to the airport that night. After we’d exited the car and unloaded
our luggage, I vaguely remember him handing dad an envelope, saying inside was
some cash that he and other church members had collected for our usage when the
need arose. Actually I vaguely remember that grandma’s death had been so sudden
and unexpected that the parents had asked to borrow money from some church
friends so that we could immediately purchase our tickets back to Hong
Kong .
Truth be told, I have absolutely zero recollection of the
flight: whether or not I watched one movie before sleeping nor what food was
served. I suppose I had simply been struck dumb by what had befallen my most
beloved maternal grandma and simply wasn’t able to process the enormity of what
had transpired.
The next thing I fully recall was when mother and I reached
Chai Wan. That’s at the end of the blue MTR line, where mum’s younger sister,
Aunty Lai, lives. I remember her letting us into the apartment, and after I’d
taken a seat, she just burst into tears and needed comforting from mother. Fair
enough, though: her mother had just passed away!
The next few weeks passed in a blur. I know the parents had
to visit the funeral home and make arrangements for my most beloved
grandmother’s funeral. Don’t recall did I actually do anything myself. Maybe I
caught up with a few cousins and friends who lived in HK? There weren’t too
many people I know over there; most people I know who return to HK to visit
relatives and friends do so around the beginning of the year, around CNY, not
July.
Turns out that for each funeral, three items are allowed to
be burnt along with the deceased. Earlier during our return to HK, I had penned
a final letter of farewell to my most beloved grandma; that was one item. When
mother had flown back to HK for one month to care of grandma after she’d first
taken ill, I’d selected a little teddy to accompany her. Caramel was about two
fist sizes big and the really cool thing was that you could turn his coating
inside out! One tone was lighter and the other darker; turns out dearest
grandma preferred the lighter tone. After mother had selected grandma’s false
teeth to be the second item getting burnt, I’d asked could Caramel be the
third? I’m not sure what heaven’s like, see, and I didn’t want grandma to feel
lonely. When mother agreed, poor Caramel was terrified: he was about to be
immolated! But not to worry: that night, while I was sleeping, Bear Bear
contacted Caramel via telepathy and reassured him: don’t worry, mate; I promise
you it’s not gonna hurt. It’ll just feel like a tickle, and then you can go up
into heaven and keep Em’s maternal grandma company until Em gets there herself,
okay? XD
One day, mother also asks me would I like to sing grandma a
song during her funeral? I say yes, and pick Amazing Grace, coz that was her
favourite hymn. Actually, I asked the parents would they please sing it with
me? I was thinking we could all sing the first verse together; dad would stop
and let mother and I to sing the second verse together; mother would stop and
let me sing the third verse by myself and they’d both rejoin and we’d all sing
the final verse together. Thankfully, they both consented.
On the day of her funeral, we all gather at the funeral parlour.
I think the pastor leading the service was actually the pastor at the church my
most beloved grandma attended.
Before the service, mother directed me towards the back of
the room, where I was allowed to say my final goodbyes to my most beloved
maternal grandma. When the attended lifted the sheet covering grandma’s face, I
could think only of how beautiful she was. More than anything I wanted to throw
myself over her, scream and demand that God bring her back because I needed her
but obviously that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead, I just picked up one of
her hands, brought it to my face and kissed it gently as many times as I could,
trying to send her all of the love I’d ever and would always feel for her
through these kisses. Mother didn’t stop me, but afterwards she thoroughly
wiped down my hand with an anti-bacterial wipe; heck, she even stuck the
anti-bacterial wipe into my mouth! XD Fair enough though, I had just touched a
corpse.
But holy heck, in the funeral room beside us, suddenly some
HUGE RUCKUS started! There were symbols clanging and chanting sounded; what the
heck was going on?! I was furious and already turning my wheelchair around
(while I’m slow, with one functional hand and leg I can steer myself around
just fine, just slowly) to yell at the insensitive people in the funeral room
beside us to shut the hell up because my most beloved grandma’s funeral was
about to begin and they were being super-rude and disrespectful by being so
noisy when the pastor that was going to lead grandma’s funeral service
interrupted me. “Sorry, you can’t go and tell them off,” he informed me.
“That’s their usual custom of grief. Instead, how about we pray and ask God to
please quieten them so your grandma’s funeral can proceed?”
By then, I had lost all faith that God listened to any of
the prayers I said to Him (I’m not denying that He hears because apparently He
hears everything; listening, on the other hand? ><) but since there was
nothing else I could do, I closed my eyes, bowed my head and joined the pastor
in his brief prayer where he asked God please to quieten the noisy crowd beside
us so that my most beloved grandmother’s funeral could begin promptly.
Amazingly, for once, God actually came through for me; the
din ceased shortly before my most beloved grandmother’s funeral began!
For each person who attended my most beloved grandmother’s
funeral, a red packet with one dollar and a lolly was handed to them. I’m not
sure what the dollar coin was for, but I presume the lolly was meant to make
what was obviously a very sad day slightly sweeter.
I’d taken my preferred position on the most left; think I
was seated somewhere near the front because at some point during the funeral
I’d be standing up, coming to the front and singing Amazing Grace for my most
beloved grandma.
Obviously, I didn’t know most of grandma’s friends, but I
was super-grateful to my cousin Karry who attended.
After the pastor had given a message, ‘twas my dearest dad
to give my most beloved grandma’s eulogy. Thanks to Aunty Lai who’d actually
typed up dad’s written draft up on the computer for him; I reckon she’s really
smart coz she knows how to type Cantonese! It’s really complicated; like …
you’ve gotta type the key that corresponds with the base of the word and then
you’ve gotta count how many strokes the rest of the word has and key that in
before choosing the correct one. Anyhow, dad shared how my most beloved grandma
had told him to just call her ‘mum’; he also shared the story of how once,
grandma had brought home a fresh crab from the markets, given the crab to him
and told dad to prepare the crab for dinner that night! Whoops, my dad’s the
baby of the family, with four older sisters and one older brother. He never had
to do too much of anything and now suddenly grandma presents him with a crab
and instructs him to prepare it for their dinner tonight! What to do, then??
Isn’t my dearest dad clever? He took himself down to some
live seafood market, watches some employee gut the crab and then returns home
and does a very admirable job himself!
After that, it’s my turn. Mother walks up behind me to the
lectern; I face the crowd, bid everyone good morning, introduce myself as Tsz Yin
(apart from the parents and my cousin Karry, doubt anybody would’ve known my
name Emily) and then add cheekily, “Oh, by the way, I’ve lived in Australia for
nearly twenty years and so my Canto isn’t crash hot; if you haven’t a clue what
I’m saying, feel free to poke the person beside you and ask ‘She said what??’”
After the laughter dies down, I tell the audience that Amazing Grace was my
most beloved grandma’s favourite hymn and I’d like to sing it for her today. Catching
dad’s eye, I nod at him and am just about to start counting him in when the
pianist plays the introduction to Amazing Grace for us! I’m super-impressed:
originally I’d expected we’d haveta sing Amazing Grace a capella! The parents
and I all sing the first verse together; my dearest dad stops for mother and I
to sing the second verse together and then mother stops leaving me to sing the
third verse by myself. Somehow I manage to sing the entire verse steadily by
myself; my voice neither catching nor breaking. For those four lines, in my heart
I repeat to my most beloved grandma how I would always love her the most,
forever, no matter what and that I hoped I’d do her proud in heaven;
that she could tell all her friends that she met up there, “You see that female
down there, struggling and trying so hard? That’s my granddaughter, you
know!”
The parents both rejoin for the last verse and that’s the
singing finished. One more thing from me, though: “My grandma also taught me to
recite the Lord’s Prayer in Cantonese when I was 3.5 years old. I’m nearing
23.5 years old now, but I still remember it, so could you all recite it once
with me please?” As one, the entire congregation bow their heads and “Our
Father in heaven…” starts up!
That’s my part of the funeral done; after that the pastor
wraps things up. As people start filing out, I remember going to find my cousin
Karry, giving her a great big hug and expressing to her my total gratitude for
coming today.
I believe it’s traditional after a funeral to share lunch
together. Someone had picked a yum cha restaurant and we were all eating. After
swallowing a mouthful I randomly look around at my table; at the same time,
Mickey glances up and we catch eyes. “What’s up, brat?” I ask. Mickey just
stares at me for a long while, and then says one word. “Emily.”
“OMG Mickey just called me!” I shrilled, amazed. See, when
I’d met him for the first time at the beginning of the year, in the three weeks
that we were there, he’d learnt to call mother yee mah and my dearest dad jeung
jeung. Me: see here, brat, my name’s Emily. But that’s probably too long for
you to manage, so just call me Em, okay? Em Em Em Em Em.” The adorable brat
looks at me, and then tries, “…Um?”
“No, you brat!” I screech. “Em, not Um!” His mum, my Aunty
Nga, comes to his rescue, explaining, “Oh Em, his vocal chords just haven’t
developed enough to call you Em yet.” Glumly, I respond, “That’s okay, Aunty.
Mother can be yee mah, dad can be jeung jeung and I’ll just be Um.” But what I
didn’t know was that after we’d left Hong Kong for the
first time that year, my aunty had spent time teaching Mickey how to pronounce my
name properly! “Em, not Um,” she’d tell him. “Emily.” And now he’d finally
called me that! I was delighted.
One more trip remained: we had to take grandma’s ashes and
store them somewhere. She’d asked for her final resting place to be in Cheung
Chau, where she’d raised mother and my two other aunties. When mother collected
the urn containing grandma’s ashes and brought it back to Aunty Lai’s flat
before we took them to their final resting place in Cheung Chau, I asked could
I please climb into bed and spend a little time with the urn? The bed faces the
wall, if mother placed the urn beside the wall and then I got into bed beside
the urn, it wouldn’t be at any risk of hitting the floor, see? Thankfully, mother
agrees and so one afternoon after mother places the urn containing
grandmother’s ashes onto the bed I climb into bed beside the urn and just wrap
my limbs around it. I realise it’s the last time I’ll be physically close to
grandma and so I cling desperately to that box with the urn and grandma’s ashes
inside, telling her again that I loved her the most, forever, no matter what,
that hopefully we’d meet again in heaven one day, that hopefully God would
treat her like the QUEEN she deserves to be – sure, nobody’s perfect but in my
mind, she was – up there and that I promised I’d always continuing trying to
improve my mobility so she could be proud of me.
A much smaller crowd gathers in Cheung Chau when grandma’s
ashes are laid in their final resting place. ‘Twas actually a very inaccessible
place: there was this huge lot of wide stairs to climb! Thankfully there was a
handrail; I used that for support as I hauled myself up the many steps.
I’m terrible with faces but I think it was the same pastor
who led grandma’s funeral service who conducted this one for her final resting
place. After mother handed over the urn containing her ashes, the urn was
placed inside her little square cubicle and some … what’s the correct job
title, masonist? Sealed it up. I thought it fitting that my most beloved
grandmother had such a pretty headstone; mother had found a beautiful photo of
her to seal into her headstone. Before we left, I kissed my right palm and each
fingertip lotsa times; after dearest dad had given me a quick hoist up to
grandma’s sealed headstone I planted my hand over it, sending her all my kisses
and hoping that she’d be alright in heaven.
Basically, that was the trip. I suppose you could call it
delayed reaction, but my utter hatred of the cruel and unfaithful God didn’t
develop until a week or so after we’d returned to Brisbane Hong Kong
the first time, why we didn’t just immediately board the next flight back to Hong
Kong so I could have seen and held my beloved grandmother to me
one more time. Mother explained to me it was because when she’d initially
arrived home, I’d been suffering a mild cold and so she’d told grandma we’d not
return to see her until I’d fully recovered. Which means I’ve really only got
myself to blame for being such a weak person … >< But like I said at the
very beginning of this post, I know you weren’t a ‘siu hei’ (say that in Canto)
person and wouldn’t have been mad at me for that.
Cripes, I’ve waffled on for like six pages! Grandma, I guess
it just goes to show that despite you having been in heaven for ten years today
now, my love for you has not decreased one tiny little speck. Whatever happens,
I will always love you the most, forever, no matter what. You are forever in my
hear, por por~
Love,
Little B. ^^
P.S. Next post here ... prolly how I spent my birthday this year?
