Dear Grandma,

Perhaps it is futile for me to be writing this letter to you now. Fourteen years I had before you departed and I never told you how much I appreciated and loved you.

I wonder how much my shy smiles and nods conveyed to you and what you felt whenever I visited you, and ended up reinforcing the bridge between the two of us. To you, Hainanese was the only language that made sense. To me, Hainanese was, is, no more than something entirely alien. You threw phrases and sentences to me in that same, incomprehensible language, and all I could use to reply were weak smiles and nods.

Guilt washed over me whenever we met, simply because I knew I was should do more for you, that I did not bother to learn your language, that I did not try to reciprocate the selfless care you showered me with, silently.

I knew you were always thinking of me and for my well-being. You scrimped and saved, eating no more than vegetables every day, and yet would slip me sums of money so frequently, for no particular reason other than our kinship.

That year, you hobbled to the temple for me on my lunar birthday, despite your cast. I know you must have struggled – but for me, you persevered. The gesture alone moved me, but again, I knew not how to reply. Another smile? What worthlessness, how it paled in comparison to all you did for me.

You were never one to bow to failures. At thirty-five, with five children in tow and one bedridden husband, you gritted your teeth and bustled yourself with odd jobs, taking care of all the household chores and scraping together enough for a meal. You never once neglected them despite all your responsibilities; somehow you managed to cope, and pull them your family through. You single-handedly saw your children to their O Levels, at that time in pre-independence Singapore – no mean feat. With not one word of complaint uttered, you sacrificed so much for the family you loved. You were the beacon of light for them during those dark times when all hope seemed to have been lost.

Your courage to face life’s problems head-on, your strong will, that selfsame selfless spirit, no one can emulate. You survived two world wars, the collapse of your husband and at the age of ninety-nine, you fought courageously the sicknesses that were ailing you.

All I want to let you know, Grandma, is that you were the most generous, caring and self-sacrificing person I have ever and will ever meet.

If I could, I wish to hold my grandmother’s hand once more and tell this strong and courageous lady, in her native language – thank you.