My grandmother beggars description. To any other ordinary person, she can be said as naggy, long-winded, and tactless-you get my point.

Yes, she is quite naggy. She always reprimands me whenever I put off my shower, dinnertime, et cetera. Yes, she’s long-winded.

She constantly has long conversations with her senior citizen neighbours and friends, or relatives. Sometimes, she bores us with her lengthy description of some new TV show, recent happenings, so on and so forth. And yes, she is tactless. Even if I’m visibly bored by her talk, she just drones on and on, unaware of my feelings.

But what is she to me?

Since I have working parents, the sole responsibility of my care went to my grandmother, who was more than willing to render her help.

Akin to every other child, I often threw tantrums. My grandmother endured every one of them and always won me over with her gentle stories and talks. She never lost her temper or resorted to violence.

My grandmother was a terrific storyteller. She would tell me stories, bribe me with offers, and coax me out of reluctance. My whole life, my grandmother never beat me, slap me, or hurt me physically in any other way. She believed in good counseling and understanding.

As a young girl, curious was the one word to describe me. I tottered around, experimenting with the strangest things. I was known for colouring my teeth with colour pencils and eating tissue paper. My grandmother had to keep an eye on me whilst she did the household chores. Running around to make sure I didn’t do anything dangerous, around the clock, is not anyone’s favourite hobby. Still, my grandmother did it. It always amazed me that she also did the chores everyday.

At four, I started school. Everyday, after school, I would wait for my grandmother by the gate, for her to fetch me home. My grandmother always came, rain or shine. Once, a thunderstorm broke out. Then 70-years-old, my grandmother braved the weather to fetch me from school, without a care for her own health. En route, I would jabber excitedly to her about all I learnt and the interesting events I encountered. We shared weal and woe. I poured forth both happy and unhappy events, and my grandmother would advise me on solving them, besides relating her own personal experiences.

As I grew up, I drifted away from my grandmother. School workload increased with every passing year. Once in a while, though, I would find time to converse with her quietly. She related the past, gossiped about the present, and hinted about the future. Her favourite line was, “I’m old. Death is inevitable. Don’t be so shocked. At my age, you will understand that we embrace death.”

What my grandmother meant to me? She was nothing more then a friend, confidante, relative, family, and my grandmother. Despite all her faults whatsoever, she was, and still is, my grandmother, loved and cherished, forever in my heart.