Of course, stories from my early childhood are all a little fuzzy - that's a tale I only know in the telling, not one in my memory. What I remember: I remember her taking me to some shop in Geylang, and she needed to get down the road, and back then you could actually took a trishaw for transportation, rather than for any novelty value. I remember going to the wet market with her and nibbling at the dried shrimp. I remember going to the hawker centre where she would take me to my favourite Western food store, probably the only place in Singapore where a hamburger came with ham. I remember her cursing out the hand-me-down old metal tricycle after a tricycle malfunction caused me to crash, needing stitches. And so I will remember her that way: feisty, pugnacious, rather than the frail shadow of herself that she had become near the end.
I am only one of twenty-six, or twenty-seven (one loses track) of her grandchildren, but she did babysit me for many years, and I will always be thankful.
Tonight driving home I was listening to Ben Gibbard on All Songs Considered, and he launched into "We Will Become Silhouettes", and I nearly lost it. "And we will become silhouettes when our bodies finally go..."
Rest in peace, Grandma.