It's my maternal grandpa's death anniversary today. I've not accompanied my mum and relatives to pay my respects at the crematorium for many years now. I was thinking of going today since I've not been there for so long. I'm staying at home instead however, since I'm not feeling well.

My grandpa is someone I only have a vague idea of. I don't even have any memory of him and I'd only seen him in my grandparents' wedding photo. Even then, I can't remember how he looks like. I didn't cherish the last chance I had to take a look at their wedding photo and I was just seven then, being more interested in toys than a black-and-white print which was so worn with age. I only have the faint impression that my grandpa was quite a looker and my grandma did not lose out in terms of beauty too.

My grandpa passed away due to lung cancer when I was just two. My mum told me that I allowed my grandpa to carry me in his arms when I was just a baby. That was a huge feat, I must say. As an infant, I was grumpy and refused to be carried by anyone except my mum and my grandparents. Even my dad was afraid to carry me, for I would wail my lungs out if he tried to do so - even if he is my dad. I guess I was quite a fussy child.

Grandpa smoked like a chimney, according to my mum. It's a habit my uncles picked up from him too, although strangely, none of my cousins are smokers. Maybe it's because they have suffered the full brunt of their fathers' smoking habits. It was most probably due to the excessive number of cigarettes he smoked each day that led to lung cancer. It was impossible for my grandpa to stop his addiction, just like my uncles. They were too far gone.

My grandpa was not a perfect husband, neither was he a flawless father from what I know. I won't be 'washing my dirty linen in public', but at the very least, according to my mum, he seemed to be a wonderful grandpa. Perhaps it had to do with my mum being my grandparents' favourite along with my sixth aunt who is the youngest. Well, my mum is the tenth child while my sixth aunt is the eleventh. Naturally, my grandparents loved me too. Well, at least that was what I heard.

On the other hand, I do have memories of my grandma. I know she loved me dearly and looked at me fondly each time I visited her each Sunday. Unlike most of my cousins, I absolutely enjoyed eating the desserts and snacks she made in the afternoon. Amongst my favourites are the ang ku kueh and the dumplings. I remember once or twice, I sat next to her on her red mattress bed while she took out various trinkets she owned and little treats she bought from the market nearby. I can't remember other cousins ever getting the chance to look through her treasures, but my mum said they were uninterested and preferred to watch cartoons or to play with the toy cars in the opposite room. Maybe it was for this reason that my grandma paid special attention to me, since I liked to eat the kueh she made and was generally a quiet child who was fascinated by her collection. It also helped that I was much better behaved as compared to other cousins my age who often fought over the toys. Grandma would chase the boys around with her legendary feather duster threateningly. She never scolded me though, and I doubt I ever gave her a reason to do so.

It's a pity I never really spoke much to grandma because we had a language barrier. She only knew Hokkien, Teochew, and a smattering of Mandarin. I guess my grandma and I communicate mostly with sign language and my pathetically limited Hokkien. But it seemed enough for her to understand me and vice versa.

I've long since outgrown the dresses she bought for me when I was much smaller. The bracelets and bags she bought for me are also really old and they have been passed on to someone else, I think. But the only memories I have of my grandparents would only be of my grandma unfortunately. I've never gotten the chance to know my paternal grandparents. Nonetheless, it feels good to know that I was adored by my Ah Gong and Ah Ma when I was just a little kid.