"remember the good times"

my dad told me yesterday to remember the good times and keep them close to your heart. i think that's how everyone should be remembered, going off gloriously rather than remaining a memory of sickness in your loved ones' minds. i say this because my grandfather passed away yesterday, having taken a fall from the balcony in another part of the apartment without anyone in the house realising he had till a few hours later. Tragic or morbid might be anyone's first thought but in some ways, the last few years have been painful for him as well as the rest of my family. It's upsetting when your grandmother suffers multiple strokes in the last few years and has to semi-permanently live in a community hospital; when you've heard a few times from the doctor that she doesnt have long to live; when you see how haggard your grandfather has become, having visited her everyday in the hospital and not seeing her get any better; when he starts to lose it too and his face starts to look blank; when your uncle/aunt/cousin calls to say that your grandfather has gone missing, having left the house on his own while everyone was busy; when your grandfather stops responding to therapy and dementia kicks in; when he stares at you blankly and not remember who you are; when he becomes just a shell with no more emotions left - neither happiness not sadness.

in many ways i shouldnt be upset but happy because he has been taken away and doesnt have to suffer anymore. in all logical sense, i dont even know why i'm so emotional now, considering how little i did see my grandfather in the past few years and how my relatives that did live with him, or had a longer relationship with him have it worse. perhaps i am upset because of all that he had to go through towards the end of his life. and that he left in such a quiet way and i couldnt say goodbye because he no longer knew i was his granddaughter. i think the last bit is probably the answer. in which case, that makes me rather selfish, doesnt it?

my dad told me that the happiest times with my grandfather were when he was 15 and they used to go fishing on Christmas Island (where he was born and grew up) before he was sent to boarding school at St Andrews in Singapore. And how they used to pick vegetables together. Last night as i lay in bed and couldnt fall asleep for a long while, i endeavoured to remember the good times with my grandfather.

i remember every weekend when we used to go to his place to have dinner - the menu was always predictable but no expense spared for a good meal. we always had roast duck, roast pork, char siew or soy chicken that was bought from the roast meats stall nearby. my brother was always offered the drumstick before me (which at that time i felt was male chauvinism but hey i wasnt too big a fan of meat with bones) and we'd always each have a bowl of soup (like watercress - one of those cantonese soups bowled with red dates and pork for hours and hours) while the adults shared one between two of them. i was always amused that my aunt cooked the rice in a microwave and that my grandparents ate bread instead of rice with their food (they'd have slices of bread cut up into squares - perhaps my aunt thought it was better for them because of fibre as they were diebetic?). after dinner my grandfather would bring out a metal plate with loads of apple wedges with the skin on, which i remember distinctly as the apples my mom used to give us back home were skinned. we'd sit there and watch TV and when it was time to go home, we'd say bye and my grandfather will do the manly "ok bye bye bye bye" and pat you on the back as you hugged him. i remember at chinese new year that my grandfather always seemed to have the coolest sweets at his place and the softest barbeque pork squares, and we'd sit there watching hilariously cheesey Hong Kong movies on RTM2. my grandfather was amazingly sweet and nice - his eyes twinkled as he smiled, and he always had this funny sniffle thing (always twice, and when he did his moustache would twitch and eyes grow so small they were just slits). apparently i 'inheritted' my sinus problem from him (because it skipped my dad) so hey that will always be a memory of him (in some strange convulated way).

i remember how things were always still good family relation-wise when my grandfather was still good and happy, even when things got strained, he still seemed so calm and collected. he'd sit there on the sofa and stare out at the sky outside the balcony in the living room and seemed to smile.

it's really cool to hear how older people i know who are Christians leave this world. i remember hearing at my dad's godmother's funeral how she told her other godson who's a doctor when she was in the ambulance that she saw a bright light and passed away in a serene manner. i guess the testimony that comes out of my grandfather's death was that he found peace in the midst of the chaotic world that he was living in towards the end of his life because he landed on some bushes as he fell six floors and had such a clean fall that he didnt have any broken bones or skull. he just passed on to the next life, looking as if he was asleep. the Bible talks of Christians falling into deep slumber as they leave this world, and in every sense my grandfather did just that. it's comforting that he didnt have to suffer even in death, and that God didnt forsake him, even when it appeared that my grandfather had lost some faith in God's goodness with all that was going on with my grandmother and family.

and for that i feel somewhat reassured too - that God was still in this situation even when it felt that He wasnt for so so long. and that as i sit here crying, that He is here to comfort me and that He will give me peace to move on as well.