My grandmother (嫲嫲 Mama) is still in hospital. Her condition seems to have stabilised a bit (her heart failure is severe, however, and her kidneys are failing as well now) for the moment. She enjoys seeing us when we visit, and is reminiscing a lot, as well advising and reminding people of their obligations.
This past week has been very hectic, with daily visits to the hospital, followed by family get-togethers. A few family members have flown in from different parts of Australia, and it’s been good to see people, even if the occasion is a sad one.
I seem to be playing a particular role when we’re all around 嫲嫲 Mama’s bed, as interpreter. Most of 嫲嫲 Mama’s conversation with us is in Cantonese, a language which, sadly, some family members don’t understand or speak all that well. And when we were at the hospital yesterday a relative from Dad’s side of the family visited – and she spoke Malay. I’m glad to be able to help, of course. It must be a bit frustrating for M and other non-Chinese partners, though, as sometimes the conversations go so fast and are so involved that it is not really possible to interpret, at least not without completely disrupting the flow.
嫲嫲 Mama has been saying that everyone should learn Chinese so they can communicate with her. She’s also instructed me and M to ensure that we write down the family story – in Chinese. When I reminded her that M doesn’t speak, much less write, Chinese, she told me I could help him, and “it doesn’t matter if it takes you a year. Or two. Or even three!”