The most painful day of our lives
By DR RANJITHA MENON and DATIN BHAVANI RABINDRANATHAN
OUR very dear grandmother had a stroke on July 8, and was warded at the Tuanku Ja’afar Hospital, Seremban. She attained eternal peace on July 23.
Born on April 19, 1933, her doting parents named her Thangamalar, which translates as Golden Flower. To us, however, she was simply our Ma.
Having lost her mother at an early age, Ma’s life was not always easy. Her beloved father arranged for her to marry our grandfather. Throughout their 63 years of marriage, Ma raised four children, maintained the household and cared for the many nephews and nieces who often spent holidays at the family home. When we came along, she started all over again by helping to raise us both.
Few people are so lucky to grow up under the devoted gaze of their grandparents – ours lived with us for 24 years. Our childhood involved school runs with our grandfather, and having our tummies filled with Ma’s excellent cooking. Every day they cared, guided and provided for us. It was our grandparents who played the pivotal role in our childhood and schooling, as our parents worked. Ma always encouraged and pushed us to study hard, and to become professionals, as these were things she was denied due to her circumstances.
To everyone who knew her, Ma was quiet but friendly, timid yet fiercely caring. She was the epitome of a doting grandmother – she watched over us when we were sick, encouraged us to do well at school, and made sure that we always had enough to eat. Ma never got angry or raised her voice at us; in her eyes, we could do no wrong.
As we got older and started venturing out into the world, Ma would constantly warn us to be careful, and would lie awake in bed until she heard the last person come home, safe and sound.
When we became adults, Ma would tell us that she wanted us to succeed in our careers, to see us both happily married and with children of our own. At both of our weddings, she accompanied us in the wedding car and sat next to us as we travelled to the ceremony.
On June 14 last year, she awaited the arrival of what would be her greatest joy – her great-grandson, Karan Dev. He spent the first month of his life at her favourite place, her home in Seremban, where she assumed her latest role in life as a great-grandmother. Once again, Ma cared for her loved ones, always making sure that both mother and baby were happy and healthy.
Now in her 80s, Ma spent her time at the home that her father had built for her in Seremban. She would come back to KL to visit us, alternating between her usual check-ups and going up to Genting where she enjoyed playing the slot machines. Wherever she was, she would diligently wait for her daily evening video call with her great-grandson. It brought her so much joy as Karan always broke into a huge grin upon seeing her and hearing her voice.
On June 30, Ma attended her great-grandson’s first birthday party. That was the last time we saw her, before the unthinkable happened. A week later, she had a sudden stroke from which she could not recover.
In her last two weeks, friends and family who had the benefit of knowing her came to visit, all hoping that she would recover. During these visits and thereafter, we learnt many things about Ma that we never knew – of her childhood and her favourite things, tales from her youth, of her joys and struggles. She was the prettiest girl of her group, the fairest of them all. She wore a deep purple and silver saree on her wedding day (not red and gold as is common in our culture, and in the 1950s at that!). Purple was her favourite colour.
As teenagers, we would sit with her every night before she went to bed, laying our heads on her lap and talking as she stroked our hair. Yet, in all those years together, there was so much we did not know about her, so much that we are learning only now, after she is gone.
Ma had made us – her husband, children, grandchildren and great-grandson – the centre of her life. She gave without expectation.
The hardest day of our lives was the day we had to say goodbye to her. To walk the hall of our childhood home, her home, without her there remains surreal to this day. But it was time for her to return to her beloved parents and to her youngest daughter whom she lost 29 years ago.
We can only hope that we were able to make her proud and that we had given her as much joy and love as she had given to us all. She will be forever missed.