Our Story

My Granny’s Glasses

My granny loved gardening. She tended a garden with a mini herb corner in our backyard. Her increasing skin color tone was the result of toiling, day in day out. Once a week, we were able to enjoy fresh produce planted by her and they were extremely tasty. Nature lover.

My granny loved baking. Pineapple tarts, glutinous rice dumplings, and steamed yam cake were her specialities. She was a kind and selfless lady, often making them in huge quantities to share them with our relatives and friends. She enjoyed watching the smiles on their faces and their satisfaction. Food lover.

My granny enjoyed going on bus rides. She would hop on random buses on her own to explore foreign roads. Each ride were at least forty minutes long, and only then could it satisfy her cravings for adventures. Adventure lover.

My granny loved mahjong marathons with my sister. She could play on for many hours, often forgetting her meals and skipping toilet breaks. It was the only time we switched roles to be the naggy individual. Young at heart.


“You have to be strong. Ah ma is here with you.” She wiped off my tears as she handed me an ice-cream and sat beside me. I calmed down in no time. She was a superhero in my eyes.

This was my granny then –I was 10.

“Mama!” how I would always call her. “Can you see clearly?”

“Mama! Please remember to on the room lights in the evening and hold on to the stairway railings when you go up to your bedroom.” I said as I rushed out of the house, late for a dinner appointment.

The reminders slowly increased as her eyesight weakened with age.

My granny loved her six children, four grandchildren and five great grandchildren dearly. It was a special love that could not be bought.

My family cherished my granny a lot; we wanted her to see as clearly as she could all the time.

Every morning, she sits on her favourite high-backed arm chair by the window. The morning light reflected off her tanned and wrinkled skin of eighty years. I was 16.

She would tell me about the Japanese occupation during World War 2 in Singapore, and how my late Grandpa and herself would sell Ice Kacang (shaved ice) by the roadside for a living.

I loved listening to her stories. Many a time, I sneaked glances in her direction as she closed her soft brown eyes and fell asleep on our pale yellow couch.

“Mama, please tell me if you feel that your eyesight is getting worse. I want you to be able to see and move around safely.” I commented worriedly.

“My beloved granddaughter, don't worry, Ah Ma can see.” She said with a familiar smile as she drew forth her gold rimmed glasses and flipped through the Chinese newspapers.

The wrinkles and folds on her face made it was hard to tell how she would have looked like as a young lady.

We slept together in the same room ever since I was a child. Precious fun-filled nights that taught me to count my blessings daily.

She was a persevering women even in her twilight years.  She was brave, resilient; she spoke each word with strength and a clear mind. I loved her for who she was. Yet I knew she wasn't going to be strong forever.

God took her in the quiet of the night when I was 24. She was 88 then.

I was left in complete shock. I always thought she would make it through everything and would never leave me. Now she was gone forever.

I miss her.

Thousands of beautiful flashbacks and interactions still reside vividly in my head today. They make up the repository of my recollections of her, waiting to be shared with the world.

As life goes on, memories stay. My favourite memory would be that sparkling pair of eyes beneath her gold rimmed glasses.

In remembrance of my beloved granny.

“Good bye may seem forever. Farewell is like the end, but in my heart is the memory and there you will always be.” Walt Disney