My grandma

The past week has been an eventful one. My grandmother and my wife’s grandfather were both admitted to hospital on 29 June 08 Sunday afternoon, and both of them passed away a few days later – my grandmother on Wednesday evening and my wife’s grandfather on Thursday morning. They were 84 and 90 respectively.

My grandmother brought me up when I was a kid, up until and through primary school. She would faithfully turn up during my recess time with prawn mee and chicken wings, both of which I loved! I stayed in her 4-room Bedok North flat at Block 82, along with my uncle and his wife, two other aunties and my parents. She was strict with me and my brother when it was required, either locking us into the storeroom or expelling us of the front door while we wailed and held on to the sofa legs! Unfortunately, none of the kids could really speak Teochew well, and her favourite story of my growing years was about the time when she told me to wait next to the “zha bou” (girl) after school, and I asked her what was “zha bou” (girl) and what was “ta bou” (boy). Even when I grew up and went to work, I still went to her flat every Wednesday to have dinner, and my wife and I would look forward to her breaded pork chops, chilli prawns and black sauce chicken!

In her declining years, one of my main concerns was telling her about the good news, and I’ve written about it previously, and how that went - http://pilgrimonearth.blogspot.com/2007/12/looking-back-on-year-of-victory.html. I recently had it confirmed by my mum that my grandma really did live in Malacca once, and that she really did hear about Jesus then, so I’m happy that she retained such a good impression of our Saviour 50-60 years on! As she herself said to me then, when you walk with Jesus, your feet will never get tired – now that I think about it, she must have been recalling Isaiah 40:31! I also found out that one of my relatives had prayed for her and spoken the good news even while she was unconscious.

I am encouraged by these things. Since I never heard her specifically confess the faith, I cannot honestly say that I believe 100% she received Christ, but I know that I have seen enough to have hope that she is resting in Him now, with no need for her wheelchair any more.

One final sign that God was present, even amidst our grief, came on the 2nd day of the wake. My daughter was still going to her classes, and my wife and I brought her to piano class. Even though she had been learning piano for some time, I had never brought her to her class before, since it is on a weekday and my in-laws usually bring her, so I had no idea where it was. As I followed my wife’s directions and turned into the carpark, I suddenly realized that her class was at Block 81, just next to my grandma’s old flat. What an amazing act of providence, prepared well in advance for me!

So I spent a good 45 mins walking around with my wife, pointing out all the landmarks of the neighbourhood where I had grown up with my grandma – where I had stood at the 6th floor window to wave goodbye to my parents’ car when they left me with my grandma to go to work, how my grandma used to walk to and from the market with the shopping basket on her arm, the big tree which used to be on the hill next to Anglican High, the path I walked from the car to the lift in my pajamas when my parents dropped me off in the morning, even an overhead bridge that I remember was still under construction when I was a kid, but now is looking its age! I thank God that He gave me the chance to remember my grandma in this way. His personal touch reminds me of the song by Casting Crowns, which my wife and I both love:

Who am I?
That the Lord of all the earth,
Would care to know my name,
Would care to feel my hurt.

Who am I?
That the bright and morning star,
Would choose to light the way,
For my ever wondering heart.

Not because of who I am.
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done.
But because of who you are.

I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow.
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord you catch me when I'm falling,
And you told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.

Yes, who am I that the Lord of all the earth would care to know my name, to feel my hurt? And not because of what I’ve done, but because of who He is and what He has done. Thank you Jesus, and in your mercy, call my grandma home.