Dear Mama,
It is only upon growing older that I even begin to understand the depth of your love and sacrifice in raising your family, one that I am so grateful to be part of. 
In every visit to Penang all through my childhood, I received your unconditional affection even as I could not reciprocate or fully grasp it; even as I knew so little about your life’s journey and the abundance of caregiving you had already devoted to so many before me.
Learning more about you gradually through listening to my parents and reading these tributes, memories I carry of even the littlest moments with you take on a new weight: the way you call my name so happily each time we arrive in York road and give a big hug by the front door, the soft-boiled egg in the morning, once giving my brother and I Ribena that you’d prepared so long before we arrived that a whole line of ants had already crawled into it, trying to learn mahjong and losing, and later, though your memory was declining, your residual sense of humour and coolness in attitude; your endurance. As fragmented as these memories are, they are cherished evidence to me of having been in your thoughtful presence even though I was so, and perhaps remain, unknowing. 
Talking to my parents about their life stories and the people who shaped them reminds me that there are many ways to continue having a relationship with a person even if they have passed on, even building a new relationship with someone you’d never encountered in their fullness of being. These tributes and stories surrounding you remind me of the grandma I am so blessed to have. They teach me gratefulness and humility in being a recipient of love beyond my knowledge.