Memories of my Aunt
My Aunt died this week ( I recently flew out to see her in Singapore when she was ill).
At the risk of sound mawkish, it’s times like this which make you face your own mortality and those that you love. But rather than thinking of condolences I suggest you get in touch with those you care for and tell them you think they are great and perhaps tell them why.
Memories of Tai Kuma
My Tai Kuma was an incredibly warm and gentle woman. She looked after me and cared for me from very young. My memories of her stretch back to before I could walk.
From her amazement in the kitchen in Ipoh that I would call a durian a perfume fruit. To playing Mah Jong, which she taught me; in Ipoh, in London, on the plane! Walking through Richmond park on a hot day with Auntie Aiyan, sitting down and eating ice creams.
She reminded me to wash my hair. To cut my hair. To look after myself. And all through out my life I knew I could count on her.
There are some qualities that are passed down through families. For instance the palm of her hand was always very soft and when I touch my palm now, I think of her.
But, I’d like to think that what has passed down to me is not just her Mah Jong skills but her kindness. She never had a bad word to say about anyone.
And I miss her. Greatly.
But I know as long as I and those who care for her remember her she will always be with us.
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2 Responses to “Memories of my Aunt”
Condolences, Ben. The thing about your palms is very touching.
I’m sorry to hear that Ben, and there’s very little that is nawkish about your sentiment.
I think perhaps people in this country have forgotten somewhat how to grieve properly, to the point where even rememberance (or remembering) is seen as possibly ‘a little too much’, until all that pent up hurt explodes in an a-bomb of displaced loss.
Nearly a decade on I sometimes in the middle of dinner or just walking along suddenly my Grandad as vividly and utterly as if he had just left the room.
My condolences.