What I Owe To Others

On Thursday, the family said goodbye to my grandma. Pragmatic as always, she had already bought a no-frills package some 15 years ago from a corporation appropriately named Modest Funeral Alternative Inc. It was to be family-only visitation, no open casket (e.g., no post-portem preparation/embalming), and cremation. However, with 6 living children, we were still required to get a signed agreement from all of them including my aunt in the old country.

So it was a simple set-up: a basic casket, her picture, and flowers from her grand-kids. Her favourite music, or at least songs mostly about her childhood city, played in the background. Without other guests, at first the 1 hour seemed long with the extended family milling around at the back. The youngest great-grandchildren wandered about without a care. But eventually, that time allowed people either alone or in small groups to approach the front in their own time to be with their grief and loss. We did receive some visitors: my grandma's best friend came with her son. At 90, I think some of her tears were also for her ever smaller circle of friends.

Our entire family weren't particularly talkative. My grandma has often said that most of us wouldn't survive back home where you needed hustle to survive. When it was clear no one was going to say any final words, I volunteered despite my usual reticence. But hopefully without coming across as a narcissist, I want to outline my reasons.

Decades ago when I was love-sick for my crush, I dreamt we were in each others' arms watching a sunrise. I woke up, and never having felt such bliss, I shyly told my grandma without going into details. Years later, I reflected at my brother's wedding that this was the few occasions where you could thank people in your life without mawkishness. And with no such ceremony in my future, it seems that some sentiments will remain unsaid. So on this day, even though grandma could not hear my thanks, the rest of the family will understand my gratitude.

Her impact was profound on the greater extended family. My grandfather and her were generous with their time, money, and aid. Several lives and families were changed. But I only briefly touched on that, and focused on 3 stories about her that affected our own families.

The first story: without my uncle who sent care packages home after the war, money to help some siblings escape, and finally sponsorship of the rest, we would all still be back in the old country or at best, scattered throughout the world. I thanked him for his sacrifice but also that it was grandma's effort that laid that foundation. Grandpa never wanted to send his son abroad as a foreign student; the financial burden could cripple the family (there were 7 people left in the household). So it was grandma who figured out all the ad-hoc paperwork by chasing down numerous bureaucrats and friends. At the 11th hour, with the final requirements unsatisfied (money deposited in Canada and a plane ticket), she found an old colleague turned bank manager, and a friend of a friend who was an airline executive. All this without a phone, just dogged legwork.

The second story: during the immigration interview, the agent was dismissive of my mother. My grandma speaking French without a translator was impressive, and so were my relatives who "risked it all" by boat. But a young woman with toddlers? Not likely to succeed in Canada. Without her persuasive words (swallowing her anger and pride), my immediate family would have stayed behind.

The final story: my cousins with kids benefited from help of the parents (nods all around). Imagine how things could have turned out for a single mom with 2 kids, learning a new language, trying to survive in a new country with no work experience. But my grandma was there: babysitting, cooking, doing groceries, and many other domestic work. When we were grown, she helped yet another set of family. Without her, my working-class uncle, aunt-in-law and their kids would have had a rougher 90s and 2000s.

After the cremation service, attended by myself and a few others (only 6-7 were allowed), we went to New Hong Shing for lunch. Grandma would have complained about the waste of money. There was one minor story that I did not tell.

After university, a Mississauga company hired me. They provided a small relocation stipend for a few weeks in a hotel. But I didn't find a permanent place for 3 months. How did I survive? Well, I didn't even have to use the money (actually, I never even billed them for my moving expenses). My grandma had pulled out her address book and asked around. She finally found a 2nd cousin in California whose daughter lived in Mississauga. This distant "auntie" gave me free room-and-board until I found that first apartment. So all my life, my grandma and the rest of my family and clan has made my path easier.