A tribute to my Nan

Today's daily verse from Biblegateway, Psalm 62: 1 - "My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him." - the verse inscribed on the stone behind which Nan's ashes lie. Mum chose this verse for the funeral service program sheet.

Tomorrow will mark the second month since Nan's passing on her 95th birthday. She lived all those years with strength and conviction. A conviction that translated in the way she raised her three daughters in the Christian faith. Mum recalls having chili powder rubbed on the inside of her mouth on one occasion she blasphemed against God in her youth. Mum used to remind me when I was a little girl to never use the Lord's name in vain. I was thus amused when I caught Nan utter, "Oh my God", although it didn't become a habit.

Nan faithfully and fervently covered us all in prayer everyday, perhaps setting the lead for Mum who has been our family's prayer warrior for as long as I can remember. And this heart of intercession has passed on to my sister and I.

In Mum's words, Nan was fiercely protective. A force to be reckoned with if you dared hurt her brood or threaten her beliefs. She had a temper but I was never prey to her feisty-ness. With us grand kids, she was soft. She and Gramps lived with us before I reached my teenage years. She used to purchase little animal ornaments for us, and being the younger child and usually the one at home (while my sister was at school or out with friends), I always got first pick. We moved a couple of times after but the ornaments eventually did not follow. I wonder what I still own to remember her by.

We watched TV together in her room, Nan on her rocking chair and I by her feet. She'd dry my hair out if I had just washed it. She didn't ever want me to catch a cold. Even in the heat and humidity that represents Singapore's tropical right-on-the-equator weather. She must have told me stories but I have somehow forgotten them. I wish I had known then to write everything down. All that comes to mind now is how she was once a nurse (I think) and fainted when she approached the morgue at the hospital. And how she was taught by strict nuns at school who disciplined with a ruler. She yanked the ruler out of one of the nun's hand once and gave the lady a piece of her mind in response to some unfounded accusation. I think that piece would have stuck given Nan's sharpness. They probably didn't mess with her after.

Someone once remarked how Nan wasn't the most sensitive person on the planet. Although, in large, gracious, loving and soft hearted towards the people (and animals - her cat Rajah will be missing her sorely) she encountered, she had a bit of a mean streak that would surface every now and then. I think it just gave her a quirly edge. I wonder if she had unconsciously developed a slight hardness from the adversities she experienced in life. Nan lived through the war and I know she carried a hesitation towards the Japanese from that. She was also adopted. But maybe that didn't make a difference. I don't know. What I do know is it wasn't easy to gain the acceptance of Gramp's parents. It was an inter-racial marriage. Both sides didn't agree on the match.  Nan won their hearts over time. She learnt the language. She cooked the food. She did whatever she could to keep the love of her life.

And the love of her life Gramps was. The day after Nan passed was their 73rd wedding anniversary. They stuck by each other through thick and thin. They don't come up with cliche expressions like that for nothing. It was certainly "to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part". Even as Nan lay in the rosewood coffin, Gramps held her hand gently and spoke to his best friend like no one else mattered at that moment. "Hey dear, it's me. Happy Anniversary. You're resting well now. No more pain. You look so beautiful and peaceful. I'll see you soon." It made my heart ache.

What a rich marriage they had. What an incredible example of true love. True comradeship. Together they touched the lives of many.

I'm thinking of collecting stories of Nan's life. Talking to family about their memories of her. The times shared. The things she told them. Stories of this amazing woman.

A woman who knew every birth date and wedding anniversary, and would send a card and often a little gift for every celebrated occasion.

A woman with a clear mind for numbers even on the hospital bed. Gramps hadn't a clue what the combination to one of their safes was. He and my aunts tried everything they could come up with. She knew. She didn't need to refer to a diary or some scribble on a piece of paper.

A woman who supported her husband's busy music commitments despite being somewhat tone deaf and not having a love for Mozart or Bach.

An amazing woman; my Nan.