December 7 1AM

My grandmother is one of the people I admire most. She was born in China, went to a missionary-run school as a teenager, and caught a boat to someplace called Sitiawan with a friend and her friend’s uncle for God knows what reason. She was never married, she adopted my mother from my blood grandmother because my mother was the 8th child. My blood grandmother could not afford another baby and couldn’t do anything but give her away, but she could do even less to prevent a pregnancy because of a lack of contraception in those days. Those were the days where you would work 40-60 hour weeks and count yourself lucky if you had meat on your plate twice a week.

My grandmother was also a pastor of a church that survives even until today, and in those days, where gender equality was unheard of, a female pastor was probably even more so a peculiar sight. She is still referred to as Nguriengan which is a sign of respect by many people. She also provided many people refuge with her as they hid in makeshift huts in the jungle during the Japanese invasion and occupation. I still remember as a small child, she would always come and tuck me into bed, she would read me a Bible story and pray for me before I go to bed. She would take care of me when my mother got sick and tired of my naughtiness.

I would love to write a book on her to journal her life, but living in a small town there are no records, and since my grandmother is 94 not many of her peers are around any longer to give testimony on her life. But what is most tragic, is that my grandmother suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease. Although we have not had her diagnosed medically, the symptoms are clear. It can be somewhat heartbreaking at times.

She forgets my name, she calls me Anthony which is my brothers name. And after telling her my name, she feigns a remembrance but within 10 minutes my name is forgotten again. She knows that I’m studying, and since the one week I’ve been back, she has asked me how much longer I have to study and if I’m going away again to study at least 30-40 times, she’ll repeat the same set of questions every 10 minutes. She’ll also keep trying to offer me food which I reject, and brings it to me too. I hate to see her strain her frail and gradually weakening body to get me food, so I try to discourage her from getting me food and saying that I’ve already eaten, but in the next 10 minutes she forgets and does it again. She can’t even read anymore, a favourite past time of hers, because she no longer remembers what happens after she puts her book down, this makes her not able to enjoy television either. She can string basic sentences together, but if attempting anything more, she tends to stutter something incomprehensible. Most days all she can do is sit and wait for time to pass, time for Jesus to come and take her home again,

I try not to think about this because I get sad when I dwell on it, I can only begin to wonder what goes on in her mind. I know I love my grandmother, but sometimes it can be so hard to be patient with her and not get frustrated and all the time I wish I could help her get better or not be bored. I question why she has lived such a great life and been reduced to such an anticlimactic fate, I wish her mind was sharp and we could have conversations, I wish she was strong and could still participate in normal activities of life. I wish that she could remember my name. But we all grow old, don’t we? And I know I have a lot to be thankful for. I know Jesus has a great reward stored up for her in heaven when she will never forget anything. And most of all, I know that I will keep loving my grandmother until the day she dies and beyond.

Because once, I didn’t know her name, but she knew mine,
And whenever I was hungry, without asking her, she would feed me,
Whenever I had a question, she would answer it,
Whenever I was in need of help, she would give me a hand,
And whenever I needed prayer, she was there already kneeling and crying out to God.

I owe her much more than just filial duty, I owe her so much of her love that she poured out into me… and when she needs my help, I will not get frustrated and try my best to repay her while I can. I love my grandmother.

“Yet He loved us, while we were still yet sinners”
I love more, because I was first loved most.

I’m sitting in my dad’s car right now, they came to pick me up and it’s a straight 3 hour drive till I’m back in Sitiawan. The flight itself wasn’t too bad, only mild turbulence here and there but like I said, nothing too bad. The movies were great, I got to see 3 movies, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Bewitched, and Bob the Butler, all 3 were pretty good but I’m not much of a critic.

Got a buzzy bee for Caleb, because every kiwi kid needs to have a buzzy bee, it was expensive but I thought that it was the least that an uncle could do, that is spoil his niece/nephew. Got some nice jewellery for Kaitlyn, I hope she likes it, I feel bad missing her birthday but I’m hoping that’s not how kids think and they are more forgiving than adults. In about 2.5 hours I will find out.

Met Ben and Lakshmi in the airport before we took off. Met and had a quick chat with Ben on the plane before the flight attendant told us to bugger off because we were near the emergency hatch and he was worried we were terrorists and going to release while flying at 40000 feet above sea level. Bet I could’ve found more people I knew on the plane if I tried but I wasn’t feeling too sociable, much happier reading my gaming magazine and watching movies. Fell in and out of sleep, but was mostly awake for the flight. Have to thank Abigail Ann Rutland for taking me to the airport and being so awesome, if you ever read this, thanks!

Abby asked me today, isn’t it hard living two different lives? Frankly, yes it is. I’m not living completely different lives, I’m just living separate lives. I said that just because you’re at one point of your life doesn’t mean you should ignore the past. Malaysia is and will always be home to me in some way, althought NZ is becoming home too. That is why when we were going out I absolutely wanted her to come to Malaysia to see this side of me. I wasn’t going to get into any serious relationship without them knowing the “whole package.” At the same time, I guess once you know me in my capacity in Malaysia and New Zealand, you will have gained so much more of my trust because you know where I come from, and can probably understand me better.

How do I feel right now? Disjointed I guess. Familiar smells, views and sights are like a smack in the face. I’m still on the highway but I’ve seen the typical Malaysian terrace shops and already felt the grit in the air sticking onto me like metal to a magnet. I can never believe how far we can travel in one day nowadays. Kinda suspicious that it’s just like the Truman Show and I’m just sitting in a pod while all the workers are changing the scene for me. I’m hungry…. I can never really eat on airplanes, I end up getting sick. I don’t like the air in planes, it’s not natural. We’re going to stop on the way home for a bite to eat.

Tomorrow we will continue the tradition that always occurs when I get back to Malaysia. In the morning, I will follow my family out for breakfast to eat the local delicacy, “kono mee” or “kampuang mein” or just black sauce noodles. Then I’ll hang around until it’s time to start daily bball sessions at church, normally around 5-5.30. And probably be busy for the rest of the week saying hello to old, but constant friends. Times have changed, but still so many things remain the same. It’s comforting to have my parents in the front seat again just like when I was little. Thanking God for airconditioning, and feeling sorta hungry.

I’m home.