ERP

ERP: Write about your relationship with an elder person, and reflect on what aging means to you.

My grandfather was born into a wealthy family and had escaped from China and moved to Singapore when he was very young, which till today, I did not know why. I had tried asking him but all he revealed was that, “Those memories were a thing of the past”.

A great deal of my childhood was spent with my grandfather. I had a lot of respect for my grandfather, who was not only my companion when I was young, but also my best friend who would always tolerate my frequent tantrums. The fondest memory I had of my grandfather, as a child was that I would always find an opportunity to snuggle onto his lap and listen to him telling me stories and the adventures he experienced. From a boy growing up in Communist China, to how he survived the war, to how he met my grandmother, these stories never fail to transport me into my grandfather’s world and to experience what he felt. “Tell me more! Tell me more!” I would always say as soon as he finished his story. On days when he was in a good mood, my grandfather would continue on with another story but on others, he would pat me on my head and carry me out from my lap and said, “Another day. A better story.”

The stories that I had grown up listening to never seem to be anything more than another way to entertain me but as I grew older, there was something that I could relate to the stories. They taught me how to grapple with life and its obstacles.

Age seemed to catch up with my grandfather. He became more forgetful and this grew worse with time. The doctor diagnosed it as dementia. My grandfather could hardly remember anyone of us, not to mention me. At his very best, he could recognize my grandmother and that was it. It was heartbreaking to see my grandfather so lost and that the person I adored most could not remember me and the many memories we shared.

I decided that it was only right of me to accompany my grandfather through these lonely years. Instead of him telling me stories now, I was the one reading to him. I would sit in front of him, holding a book as he dazed off in his rocking chair. It started from fairytales to classics and to the books that I liked. I was not sure if he understood or was even paying attention to the stories but I still went on and on and stopped only when he dozed off. “You are tired. We will continue tomorrow.” I said as I folded a flap on the page of the book. Walking over, I covered his frail body with a blanket and pecked him on his cheeks.

The only time my grandfather did not doze off during our reading session was when I was reporting the news from the newspaper. Throughout the years of reading to him, my grandfather did not complain about the reading sessions we had and I just took it that he liked me reading to him, as much as he loved my company.

As I grew older, it became increasingly difficult to spare some time to read to my grandfather. The only times when I could find some time to accompany and read to my grandfather was spent on reading the literature books that I was assigned during school. On other days, I would have to record stories and sent the tapes to my grandmother who would then play them. Nevertheless, I would occasionally still visit my grandfather and really enjoyed being in his company and reminiscing the times we had together.

With those books, I found that it was hard to take in as much when I read aloud as when I read silently to myself. But that changed. The disadvantages of reading aloud was remained the fact that it took longer, but I did not complain, knowing that I was doing this because of my grandfather. Moreover, books read aloud also stayed long in my memory. Till today, I still remember the books I have read to my grandfather.

My grandfather died in his sleep in the beginning of the year. I was away when this happen but from what I heard from my parents, his last days were spent by hearing my recorded stories on cassette tapes. Looking at those cassette tapes which I gave my grandfather, now all stored in a box, I felt heartened for I knew that my grandfather enjoyed not only my reading but also my accompany.

I took out a cassette tape from the box and inserted it into the tape recorder.

As one grows old, you lose the memory of the people you really love the most but at the same time, you gain something even more precious, the love of the people around you. For what my grandfather mentioned in his stories “We’re meant to lose the people we love. How else are we supposed to know how important they are?”