Hello Everyone! A very belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope your 2012’s all started with a bang.
(Very good. Short, snappy, and festive. Maybe everyone will just casually ignore that you’ve been gone for a month and not ask any suspicious questions requiring uncomfortable explanations…)
I’m writing this on the way back to New York from Singapore. I’m currently on the second leg of my journey from Frankfurt to JFK, and spent most of the first leg eating plane food out of a box, (those close to me will tell you that I receive strange joy from consuming box-sourced food) watching movies and trying to replicate sleep. This seemed like a lost cause, until the two people sitting next to me magically disappeared for the Frankfurt leg of the journey, giving me two extra seats!! YAY! And now that I HAVE those seats, I choose to take out my laptop and write a post, rather than catch up on much needed lost sleep…logic.
Even though I did say I was going to avoid the uncomfortable explanation, I do feel like somewhat of an explanation is due. Nae, not so much an explanation. More of an homage. I feel like trying to skim over my New Year and act like the last month didn’t happen doesn’t pay tribute to what did. It’s not a long, or even very shocking story, but it did happen.
On December 26th, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. On January 31st she died.
Needless to say, she was a wonderful woman, loved by her children and grandchildren. The rock of our family. Without her we all felt a little…vacant. Funeral arrangements are never fun, and entertaining depressing (although well meaning) relatives is extremely exhausting. I’ve been thinking over for a while how to pay an adequate tribute to my grandmother, and I couldn’t think of how. Until my mother wrote her the most beautiful eulogy which she asked me to read at the funeral. Although they were her words and I was merely a messenger, I felt like they could have come from my mouth. My heart. Because my mother is my heart, and without my grandmother, where would either of us be?
So, I thought the best way to remember her would be to share Cleribel’s eulogy with you. I’m sorry if this post isn’t funny, or entertaining, but it is honest.
We would like to thank you all for being here with us today, dear relatives, dear friends, and everyone who offered words of comfort and support. Thank you for supporting Amama through her many years as a widow, your visits, phone calls, your prayers, the many songs, your fellowship and love. Thank you for your unwavering kindness throughout her illness, your laughter and goodwill that carried her to good health. Without you, she would not have been for us the happy and loving Amama we adored.
Thank you to Amama’s daughters-in-law, Mary, Amy and Carol, who have loved and cared for her over the years. You have shared your lives with Amama in a way she enjoyed and treasured – all the fun we had celebrating our birthdays, Easters and Christmases – we will always remember our happy days together, and continue to cut the biggest piece of cake for Amama. You have devoted the last few days to organizing her final journey today, as a tribute to her life. Thank you for loving Amama the way you do.
Amama was a talented lady. She was our celebrity drama queen. It is hard to picture a mother of four children, in the 1960’s, in the primary forest of Bukit Timah Nature Reserve, as a stage star, but she was. She and her dearly departed husband Thobias were the stalwarts of a fledgling drama scene in Singapore – our own Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton – or at least that is what Amama told us to say. Hours of rehearsals, late nights, fast cars with sleeping children in their laps – they lived their lives to the full, and ours pale by comparison.
Everyone who has sat at her table will know that she could cook better than any TV chef. She could turn a feast on a dime, fed many for very little, and asked for nothing more than a return visit. We will never recreate her curry powder or her avial, her sambar, or her karuvadu podee, but we will keep trying. And yes, feel free to laugh at my accent.
Amama’s sartorial elegance was her one indulgence. Who can forget the matching hairclips, sarees, handbags and sandals? As Mayma aunty said yesterday: “We walked in style.” Amama reserved the right to put her stamp of approval on how her family were turned out from day to day – whether for the hawker centre or work or church. She was happiest in her Sunday best with her family in tow, letting the world know that she had arrived. And we follow in her fashionable footsteps.
More than anything, we remember Amama for her sparkling wit. Never a dull moment. She could find the funny in any situation, a talent that kept us from the edge of dysfunction and frequently propelled us where we never thought to go. And where we often went without fear, because Amama was always laughingly near.
Our Amama may be gone, but we will remember her bright and vibrant soul. Her spirit was indomitable. Through all her hardships, cheerfulness kept breaking through, thanks to her unfaltering faith in our loving God. May she continue to shine her light and laughter on our lives.
We ask all of you here today not to mourn the loss of Amama but to join with us in celebrating the life of a remarkable and wonderful woman, whose priorities in life were our God, her family and her friends.
Rest In Peace, Our Lovely Amama.
Thank you, from the family – Anthony, Anna, Augustine and Martin, spouses and grandchildren.
