Adapted from The Star Sunday July 22 2012
I was about seven when I was told something which amazed me. We were on our way to church that Sunday morning and beside me sat Nanny. She was her usual self, chirpy and well-prepared with nonsensical questions regarding anything and everything that was mentioned during the entire journey.
She didn't expect any answers as the questions were raised to fill in the gaps when silence crept in. Sort of like a cue card contrived to throw us off track so that we would repeat ourselves and include her in the conversation. Cheeky. Along the way, dad made a sharp turn and we were on Jalan Sungei Besi. It was the first time that morning that I bothered to look out the window. Straight ahead on my right, slightly below the white clouds that illuminated the dark sky was a hangar.
Airplanes of different sizes and models were in the hangar. A big green helicopter that looked battered stood out. It reminded me of the aircraft summoned to war during the attack on Pearl Harbour.
I ooh-ed and aah-ed and, noticing the gleam in my eyes, Nanny said that in her early days, she used to fly it. being too little to tell the difference between her lying and her honest face, I believed her. Besides, she had the most innocent eyes, the kind children have.
Some months back, we passed by the hangar again and I suddenly remembered what Nanny had told me that Sunday years ago. This time, however, I started to doubt her words, to the point that I couldn't just let it go. So, with her seated beside me again, I decided to bring it up.
I asked Nanny about the olive green helicopter. I interrogated her. After a few minutes, I realised how stupid it sounded. But, being senile but not deaf, she heard me, registered my questions for a while and, without giving me a straight answer, she began to laugh her wicked-witch laugh. I knew then that she was just messing around with me. Even so, I sulked during the entire ride home.
This, coming from the person who taught me to always tell the truth and that even is you tell a little white lie, it's still a lie. I couldn't believe it. The seven year old me would have cried, but the 18 year old me just sat in a corner and kept to myself. I wondered if Nanny would have told the older me the truth. But I then realised that it wouldn't matter either way. In life, there are people you can stay mad with but who don't give a damn if you ever forgive them or not.
There are also the handful people whom you can squabble with, and have tiff after tiff. But at the end of the day, you realise that even if it wasn't your fault and you aren't willing to apologise, you will do so anyway because you cherish your relationship with them more than your pride and ego. Nanny is one of those people.
I'm beginning to cherish and appreciate my grandma a little more these days. I know I should have started a long time ago. Right now, she's sitting on her usual right-side of the sofa, as she flips through the newspaper. I glance at her every now and then I think of the times I put my pride ahead of my better judgement, which led to never-ending disagreements. I think of the times I raised my voice while tyring to put my point across to her. I think of the times I shouted back at her when she was just advising me to be careful. As I replay those horrible incidents, a wave of regret washes over me.
Nanny is only a few feet away from me and I miss her, and that's never a good way to miss someone. We haven't fought for a few weeks now and I'm beginning to believe that my Wednesdays aren't cursed at all.
I hope she knows that I love her. She is the only grandparent I have left, and no matter what, there will always be a part of me that's willing to do anything to see and make her happy :)
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