To Wai Gong, In Memoriam

The family car zoomed past me as I stood and watched behind the white iron gates that separated me from the road. Not taking my eyes away from the distant car, I felt a hand tugging mine, leading me inside. “Mommy…” I whimpered silently.

“Papa and Mama will be back for you later. Come inside,” he said gently. Reluctantly, I followed him into the small but familiar little house. I took off my shoes, stepped into the doorway, and sat down on the tiny couch. “Watch some TV,” he continued. I stared blankly at the TV set, clueless and curious about Chinese soap operas. This was the day to day routine when I was only 5.

Because I wasn’t fluent in Mandarin or Teo Chew, I never understood what he was saying. This he realized, yet he never let difficulties in communication stop him from growing closer to my sister and me. Everyday he would go to the nearby stores to buy us snacks. My favorite was the chocolate teddy bear cookies. We never really talked. It was always the casual “How are you doing today?” or “What do you want to do today?” There really wasn’t much to do in such a small and lonely place, but we would play make-believe to entertain ourselves anyway. As for the Chinese soap operas, we never understood them nor enjoyed them up till today.

Sometimes, I would climb up the dining chairs and watch Wai Gong as he made sio bee and pau. I, in my little 5-year-old mind, was fascinated at how deft his hands were at sculpting them. His pau and sio bee’s were not only beautiful, but delicious. My mom would try and try to make them, but they were never really quite the same.

He was never really outstanding; nonetheless, he was a wonderful grandfather. He took care of us the best way he knew how. Even though we struggled to communicate, I knew from his actions that he loved us.

Wai Gong, I know I’ve never told you how great you were nor have I ever said thank you for all that you’ve done. I regret not knowing how to talk to you and I regret even more that when I finally learned the language, I never had more conversations with you. When I stirred up the courage to talk to you, your hearing was slowly failing. Even with a hearing-aide, I had to shout out loud just to say ‘hi’ to you. As I grew up, I became more and more independent. I no longer needed a guardian or a companion to watch over me. I could stay home alone and as a result, the visits to your place were less and less frequent. Soon enough, I moved --- not just a town away, but thousands of miles away from where you lived.

It never once crossed my mind that at this time, you’d be gone from me – from my life. Perhaps I thought it too soon to happen. On the 20^th of November, you quietly slipped away in your sleep. I realized then that I had lost my chance to express my gratitude to you and I was devastated. I couldn’t understand why, just why, you had to leave us at such a time as this. However, as I lay in my bed and cried, I came to understand that you are in a better place right now. You have lived and faced life in all its struggles and challenges. You have overcome the obstacles of life and you have lived life to the full. You have successfully supported and brought up a family. You have loved and you have been loved. Now, the time has come for you to be with the Father. For this reason I rejoice. You now live eternally, enjoy the blessings of the Lord and live a cheerful and joyous life that is filled with praise and thanksgiving.

No doubt I am sad that you’re gone. I would always miss you. Even though I have never properly thanked you, I hope that you can hear my prayers of thanksgiving to the Lord for providing me a grandfather like you. Even though your presence has left me, your love and memories would remain in me…always.