Author: Anonymous
My grandmother passed away from liver cancer when I was 21. She had battled the illness for about a year before her death. We shared a close and warm relationship and she doted on me ever since I was a child. I can still clearly recall many of the things she did for me such as bringing me to Pasar Malams and funfairs, paying for all the games I wanted to play, and cooking my favorite dishes whenever I goes over to stay at her place on weekends. She always made sure I was cared for and never go hungry.
Sadly, despite all that she did for me, I struggle to remember anything meaningful I did for her in return. My memories seem to focus only on the times I made her upset or sad. Coincidentally, I was enlisted in national service during the final phase of her life and was preoccupied with my own matters. As a result, I didn’t spend much time with her. What remains vivid in my mind is the image of her lying in bed at our home, struggling and moaning in pain while my mother took care of her. Even when I was home, I rarely spent time by her side. I think I avoided being around her because I didn’t know what to do or how to help.
Looking back, I realize these were just excuses I made for myself. There were things I could have done, and even if there wasn’t much to offer, merely sitting quietly beside her might have brought her some comfort, knowing that one of her favorite grandchildren was there, sharing those difficult moments with her. Every time when I visit the columbarium, I would stare in blank at her photo, reminiscing on the things she had done for me and being a part of my growing up. I think that remains one of my deepest regrets that I did not spend quality time with her.
