Remembering by Melissa Sia(4A)



“Who are you?” Grandma asked for the 100th time. Everyone in the room heaved a sigh of despair. Everyone, except Grandpa.
It was about two years ago when Grandma met with an accident. Actually, we all did, daddy, mummy and I. But Grandma was the only one who got injured. Before the accident happened she had been complaining about her seat belt. Her exact words were: “It squeezes everything on me.” We all groaned and begged her to say no more. It turned into a joke and we were all laughing together.
We let her unbuckle her seat belt and didn’t think much about it. Daddy was a very careful driver and it was bright daylight so the chances of encountering accidents were almost none. We were on our way back home from church when the car in front of us slowed down for no apparent reason. Daddy was about to press the honk when suddenly, a car from behind sped right into our bumper.
Our seat belts tugged and held us back. But poor Grandma’s head knocked onto the headrest of the front passenger’s seat. I was shocked and pulled her back, crying, “Grandma! Are you alright?! Grandma! ” She did not seem to respond. “Oh, God, please don’t let anything happen to her.”
Everyone in the car looked at Grandma tearfully.  Daddy called for an ambulance and within minutes, we were on our way to the hospital. Daddy was not with us because he had to settle accident matters with the drivers involved.
In the ambulance, mummy and I were anxious. It seemed to take years to get to the hospital. Grandma was immediately rushed to the emergency room as priority was given to senior citizens. I paced the waiting room like a caged lion. Millions of thoughts ran through my mind in a second. I did more thinking than I had in my entire life.
The doctor came out and told us she was fine. But, like all predictable movies, there was always a ‘but’; Grandma had lost her memory. I felt slightly relieved. The doctor didn’t know what she could remember but he encouraged us to do our best to revive her memory. Mummy and I walked into her room and there was Grandma, sitting on the bed with a smile on her face like an innocent child. I bet she had no idea who we were.

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For convenience Grandpa and Grandma moved to the Old Folks’ Home. Daddy and mummy were always busy at work while I wasn’t capable of looking after Grandma single-handedly. So, an agreement was made for everyone’s best interest: we would visit them as often as we could.
Grandma is doing alright now but her mental block is still in the way. Talking to her is like talking to a child. She has no idea who she is or who we are, let alone her own marriage. After countless times of introductions and recollections, she still doesn’t remember. At every visit, Grandma is happy to see us, but she thinks she is making new friends every day. I can’t bear to get mad at Grandma but I am feeling a little flustered. Grandpa is very patient with Grandma. He always has some advice to help me get through life’s little obstructions.
Today as usual, I pay Grandpa and Grandma a visit. Grandpa is writing neatly on a piece of paper. “Grandpa, what are you writing about?” I ask.  Grandpa smiles and says, “This is for your Grandma. I write her a love letter everyday just like what I did in the olden days.”
                “Are you serious, Grandpa?” I ask in bewilderment. “Grandma doesn’t remember any of us.”
“She may not remember us, but we must never forget who she is,” Grandpa says. “Your Grandma is my wife. I love her and nothing can change that. The question now, my Grandchild, is who are you?”
Struck by Grandpa’s question, a realization comes upon me.
I have a bounce in my step when I enter Grandma’s room.
“Well hello, my dear. Who are you, pretty child?” Grandma asks.
Sitting at her bedside, I hold her hand gently and say, “I am your granddaughter, a missing piece in your life found.”

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