It rained today, it made me think of you, I am in your heart- she tells me.
Sitting with Cousin B, listening to her detail tirelessly the care-giving she now provides for Popo, Popo asleep in the adjacent room, I suddenly comprehend better.
Perhaps the love for a mother has a tenacity and simplicity, when the mother has been present all through the years, doing the grunge work. The daughter clings, fights for, cares for without complaint, because it was the mother who first, selflessly loved.
Summie has a triumphant day in the UK, on the very same evening I visit my sleeping grandmother here in Singapore. In that one moment, I learn what it is like to experience both uplifting joy, as well as debilitating sorrow.
If Summie gets into medical school, Jon says, it is all because of you.
He also says, Yes, lets go for dinner. We must celebrate her good news and Popo's amazing life.
Sorrow keeps me awake. What did Popo do that was so amazing to me?
Her hands, sifting through my hair, in a darkened kitchen, every morning, before I left for school. Her writing, neat and her grammar faultless, as she penned every single letter of excuse to explain an absent day.
7-years old, panicking, and in tears, asking Popo to please come and help me find my report card that I had so carefully hidden so as to not misplace it, but in my care, had succeeded in losing that which I was so proud of. Popo coming immediately, marching down Siglap Road, and then along Marine Parade Road to save me.
The same walk, but in the opposite direction this time, her hand clasping mine, her umbrella shielding us from the scorching sun. In the distance, a man is crying, a woman is crying, but they are muted and faraway, because in my heart, the sound of breaking is immediate and so much louder.
Her voice pleading- Don't make Tammy cry, Don't make Tammy cry. My tears falling into the dinner plate. My brother running away. Don't make Tammy cry.
Grown up, and still seeking her. I am scared, Popo.
It's ok. You don't have to marry him. You don't have to get married. Girls your generation can do other things now.
Another man, another fear. Popo again- If you keep saying you are scared, who will you ever marry?
But I don't want to get married.
If you don't try, how will you ever know?
All through the years- Don't work so hard!
At pivotal moments- Your daughter needs you. I know you raised her to be so independent, but try and work less, don't leave her alone at home all the time. She's going to be a teenager.
And then she is a teenager.
Don't work anymore. Stay home for her. Be with her, now.
Popo? I am scared. I know you are safe and not in any pain. I want for you to go gently into the night. But I can't stop the weeping. No one, no one has ever comforted me, the way you have. I tell Jon to leave me alone, he can't ease this sorrow. Because you are no longer here. Jon is a wonderful man, and Summie is going to get there because I did as you said. I listened to you. I only listen to you, my grand mother.
No comments:
Post a Comment