please bear in mind that this story is fictitious, although alot of the events really happened. based on a true story? i guess you could call it that. also, i'm just writing this for fun, so don't take things too seriously and question my motives for writing or whatever. constructive criticism welcomed.

INTRODUCTION

My grandmother was always with us, or at least that's how it felt like. She was with us when my older brother was born in 1990, she was with us when I was born two years later. She was by our side during the hard times, and enjoyed with us during the good. She seemed always there, like a permanent fixture in our home, in our family.

As much as one would think that a granddaughter would know her own grandmother inside out after living with her for the most part of her life, I came to realize that wasn't the case. My grandma seemed so constant and ancient that I never dared prod into her past, or maybe it just never occurred to me that she had one. Of course, I did know some things about the woman. Her name was Mary Seet. She was a Peranakan (a cool factor.) She had a sister and a brother. She married my grandfather long ago, adopted a son, and had two more and a daughter (my mom.) She worked as a maid. Her kidneys eventually failed when she got older and she had to go for dialysis. Other than some little stories here and there that was about all I knew concerning her history, and that seemed enough to satisfy my curiosity, if I even had any. This ignorance and, to some extent, unappreciative attitude slowly faded as I grew older, and my grandma weaker.

There comes a time for every old and sick person when the end of the road seems visible, imaginable, imminent. My grandma was at that stage. She had bouts of very low immunity, and even though she had been in and out of hospital before, it just wasn't the same this time round. I was sixteen at the time, and although I had less say in the decisions being made for her, I felt no less pain for her as she went through procedure after procedure. It was during this period that I began to look closely at my grandmother as a woman, a woman with a history during another era. The lines on her face were not always there. She was once a young lady with a journey awaiting her, just like me. The curiosity of the teenager sparked inside. It suddenly seemed like there were a million pieces of life stories before me-- in my mom, in my aunt, in my uncles, and in my grandma herself. Love-stories, war-stories, secrets and scandals, untouched because of fear or covered up for sake of pride. It was as if they were all waiting for me to piece them together. A kind of need formed inside me to do so-- to fix up the pieces, and complete the story of my grandmother.

CHAPTER 1

MARY, ELSIE, AND DICK

Mama, as I called my grandmother, had been warded once again. Another infection in her arm-thing that was used for dialysis. I could never remember what it's called. I could never remember anything medical, for that matter. I called my mom up at work the afternoon she was warded.

“She went from the dialysis center?” I asked a little worriedly.

“No uncle Poh Thim drove her in his taxi from his house. Her arm kept bleeding.” she replied, while walking to the cafeteria for lunch.

“Should we go over later? We can meet you after work. We'll just eat outside before going.”

“Okay I'll call you guys later. Bye bye” she hung up.

I plopped the phone in its holder and went to the study room to tell my dad we'd be going to the hospital. Tim, my brother, came in.

“Should I bring my camera?” he was genuinely asking.

“NO.” we both replied in perfect unison, followed by a bunch of common-sense reproofs.

After I finished my schoolwork I went to my room. Rumbled through my (mountain of) stuff for a few minutes and pulled out a paper bag. It was one of those wrapping paper bags with a gold ribbon on it, evidence of the Christmas season. I took the bag out and put it on the sofa, chanting to myself to,”... bring it later...”

I took a shower before we left; the heat just drained you of everything. At around five in the evening we set off for the hospital. Daddy was locking the gate. He turned around and asked,

"Did you guys forget to bring anything? Sure? Handphone, EZlink..."

"Nope." Tim and I took turns saying while fiddling with our mp3 players and little gadgetry. Then just as Dad pulled the key out of the lock and started for the stairs I half-shouted.

"EH wait! I forgot to bring the... bag...that..." I grabbed the keys from Daddy's hands and opened the gate in a frenzy as if my life was on the line. I could feel the face he was making and the electricity darting from his eyes down onto my hunched self. That 'always like that' face. I reached the sofa in two big steps, grabbed it, and locked up the gate with a guilty smile. A string of apologies followed as we went down the stairs.

The train ride was slow, the mood was dull. Daddy slept and Tim surfed the net on his mobile. There was some worry in the air, but it was a cautious kind. Mama was a strong old woman. She'd overcome infections so many times, this time should be alright too. Should be. Would be. Most probably. But maybe not? My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of someone sitting towards my left on the other side of the train. He looked familiar but I couldn't connect my brain dots. DING, dots connected. I leaned over to daddy whose head was bobbing around,

"Daddy. PAPA. PA!" I whispered as loudly as the boundaries of whispering would go. He gave me a groggy face. "You know the guy sitting there, he's from Live the Dream! The band catagory." I made a mistake; shouldn't have used words with more than two syllables with groggy Daddy.

"Hahh?" He didn't whisper.

"That guy," I pointed with my chin," he's from a singing show. He won one... prize."

"Who?"

"Ash."

"I dunno him."

"I know you dunno him I'm just saying.."

"Where?"

"There the white shoes.. there on the left.."

"Oh that one ah. So tall. Is he, what, famous?" It's funny my dad was interested.

"Um, i dunno. Nobody's going up to him or anything." I laughed at the thought.

About an hour after we left the house, we were at the hospital. Mommy met us in the ward. I bent down over Mama's bed and smiled at her. She looked horrible, curled up and pale, breathing through her mouth. She opened her eyes just a little and went back to sleep. No noisy greeting, or hearty laugh. She didn't seem like Mama. sure, she'd been quiet and sick before, but it wasn't the same. Her spirit seemed gone. Her eyes were different.

"She's not the same." I said to Mommy after she was done talking to the nurse in charge. Being a nurse herself and having the uniform on let her command a little more attention than the average inquiring relative.

"She can't recognize anyone. Or rather she can, but everything's all mumble jumble inside her brain.. the antibiotics are making her funny. Her brain-- not normal." she filled me in.

"No wonder." I said calmly as I digested the information. Can't recognize? I thought to myself. Maybe she'd still remember me. I'm pretty important to her having stayed in the same room as her for what, centuries? Surely the memory of me must be more important, more.. engraved in her brain. I went back to her bedside and held the bed-rails. "Mama!" I mouthed to her when I caught her sight. I waved and smiled goofily, and looked as me as me could be. My heart was expectant; she looked at me and frowned to focus.

"Ah ha ha~" she laughed quietly, still giving me no confirmation. Her eyes were in a daze, like someone high on drugs. She looked around, then back at me. "Ba-po lah you! Ha Ha Ha~"

I looked at mommy, a little dazed myself. So she forgot me too. But no, not forgot, just jumbled me up with someone else. Her brain's funny, that's all. I comforted myself. In my mind her brain was just funny, but in my heart it felt like she forgot me. I retreated to a chair nearby and gazed in Mama's way. The image of the ward blurred as tears filled up my eyes.

After about half an hour of dripping tears I managed to stop crying. My nostrils had funny red marks on them because I was using the tissue to wipe them so much. We were all just looking at Mama silently, Mommy fussing around a little with the drip and stuff. My aunt came in a hurry.

"How is she? I heard about the antibiotics." she directed her question to my trusty nurse mom.

"Yah, they're affecting her brain. She's saying all sorts of weird things... called Agnes a ba-po." Mom replied, pointing with her eyeballs to me in my puffy-eyed, sorrowful state.

"Oh dear. Ba-po??" she let out a little huff of a laugh. Then she went on to try out her face at the recognizing game, of course, to no avail as well.

After Mama fell asleep we all went for dinner at the hospital cafeteria. Tim was solemn, Daddy was trying to be supportive to Mommy, and my aunt was trying to be supportive to us all. My mom bought Korean food for me and pushed the tray in my direction with a smile. I felt like a big cry baby. We sat down and prayed for the food, including dear Mama in our prayer. Tim turned to me,

"Whose name did she give you?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Ba-po."

"What's ba-po??" Tim didn't speak peranakan. His vocab was limited to eat, poop, and chicken.

"Transvestite." I said with a smile, awaiting his reaction. He promptly turned back to his food with a restrained grin. He could have just laughed if he wanted to, but he probably feared me bursting into tears again.

"I was renamed Dick." he comforted. I laughed.

"Who in the world is Dick?"

"It's Mama's brother, your granduncle, my mom's brother." my aunt cut in, giving us so many relations it was impossible for us not to recognize his identity.

"Oh, Kukong! I didn't know what his name was. Sounds british, haha." I said.

"He was involved with the british in the past. In fact he was still receiving pension until he passed away, God bless his soul." my aunt continued.

"So Epoh, Mama, and Kukong were siblings right? They grew up together right?" I asked with interest, my mind taken off the sad situation.

"Yes. But your Mama was adopted, you know? In the past they passed kids here and there, it was a common thing. But the three of them were close as blood related. That's how Mama got married.. your granduncle got your grandparents together."

"Really??" I let out a beaming smile at the thought of an old-time love story. "But wait, adopted? Why?" i had to settle that first, then move on to the love story. Chronological order.

"Why ah, Suan?" my aunt asked my mom. I looked at them both.

"Why? I actually don't know. My parents were both adopted. Come to think of it I really don't know why. Families were complicated in those days. " she went back to her kopi-o after a few more seconds of thought.

That didn't satisfy my curiosity, but that was all the information they had.