Grandparents are our roots, without them, there would not have been us. When I was born, my paternal grandparents have already passed on. I only got to see my maternal grandparents.

Whenever the word “grandparents” is mentioned, the first thing that comes to my mind is never-ending nagging. Not that both my grandparents love to nag, just my grandmother. My grandfather is a really quiet man. He loves to sign and often take part in singing competitions. He has many trophies under his belt. But singing is not the main picture in his life.

Together with my grandmother, they run a furniture store. The store had been their livelihood for fifty-five years. A humble shop house in Johor, Malaysia, above the shop lived my grandparents and uncle. In the holidays or during festive seasons, all my aunts, uncles and their families, including mine, would go back to the shop house to stay for days. It is during these gatherings that I get to see my grandparents. But four years ago, my grandfather who was long before diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure, died of medical complications. It was rather sudden and shocked all of us. We never expected him to leave us so soon. He was sixty-seven years old then.

His death affected my grandmother by a great deal. Ever since he died, my grandmother never slept in their bedroom ever again. She moved to sleep in another room and had to have a maid to accompany her. She subsequently complained of heartaches but when my parents brought her to consult a doctor, nothing was found to be wrong. More than one doctor was consulted but all of them found nothing wrong with my grandmother’s health. Eventually to pacify the old lady, my parents, aunts and uncles resorted to lying to her that there was a problem and that all she had to do to help it was to take the medication she was prescribed, which was actually sleeping pills and pills to stabilize one’s mental state. Nobody was allowed to tell her anything about this. When I grew a bit older and could think more maturely, I realize that my grandmother was actually lonely and wanted attention from her children.

My grandfather’s death made me understand the importance of treasuring my grandmother, who is the only grandparent I have left. It reminded me of how people around me could just come one day and be gone the other, especially the aged. My grandmother’s heartache incident also made me realize that the elderly want our attention too. Appreciating them does not only mean we give them the respect that they deserve, treat them well and provide for their living expenses, it also means we take time out from our daily routines to shower our care and concern on them just like how they did to us when we all were younger. Show them that we care about them, pay attention to them and will always be there for them.