When I got the phone call that my grandma had passed away on the 30th of October, all I could think of was how my mom would react. She was my grandma’s favourite child, and I knew my mom received the news pretty badly from all the wailing and the sobbing I heard throughout the 4 hour long car ride back to her hometown.
My grandma had lived a pretty long life, but she didn’t really live life to the fullest. Even when my parents wanted to bring her to Genting Highlands for a vacation, when we finally reached there, she claimed that it was too cold for her, and so we had to go back home just 30 minutes after my dad had parked the car.
To be honest, my grandma didn’t like me. In fact, she didn’t like every single one of her granddaughters. She liked her grandsons more. Once, when I was sitting on the sofa watching TV, she deliberately turned the fan which was blowing at me to another direction where no one else was sitting. I didn’t really speak much to her when she was still alive because the only language she knew was Hainanese, and that is one language I know nothing of. So, it was hard for her to pronounce my name, and she would usually just call me “Cicak”, or lizard, in Bahasa Malaysia. For some reason, “Cicak” sounds a lot like “Trecia” to her.
But despite not being really close to her, I would still miss her. I would miss her calling me Cicak, I would miss her toothless smile and that eccentric laughter, and I would even miss all the profanities she threw at me even though I have no idea what most of them meant. I was amazed that at her age, she could still swear like a sailor.
We had went back to Johor to visit her just 4 days before she took her last breath, so I’m glad that we got to see her one last time. My grandma passed away at the age of 94. She would be turning 95 this Thursday. I don’t know if I have the time to blog on that day. So, I would just like to take the opportunity to say here, Happy Birthday, Popo. You will truly be missed.
