I'd learn how to say thank you in the language you know.

A HUGE misunderstanding sparked off this post. HUMONGOUS. Thank goodness everything's been clarified now.

I've talked about my maternal grandparents cos I'm closer to them, meaning I know more about them.

My paternal grandfather passed away when I was in Primary 1, as far as I can remember. Time spent with them were short. They didn't stay in a fixed place, nor did we have a fixed day that we visit them. They would stay a short while at each of their 6 children's places, and would rotate around.

I can barely recall how it was like. I do remember dreading them coming over to stay. I used to feel that they were disrupting our normal lives and it was so awkward having them around. Perhaps, I've always dreaded talking to my grandmother, not cos I don't like or love her, but because of our inability to communicate. I guess everytime I see her, I'd feel really guilty as to why I can't talk to her more. Furthermore, she was more than 70% deaf and wore hearing aids. I had to shout everytime I wanted to say something to her.

However, these routines stopped after my grandfather passed away. Ever since then, I only see her once or twice a year, not more than 6 hours each time, not more than 10 sentences exchanged.

Now, she's more than 90% deaf and the hearing aids don't work anymore.

The last time I visited her in hospital was the time she had a stroke. My dad loves her a lot. He loves tormenting us with the repeats of his childhood stories, to the extent we'd know exactly what he'd say next.

My grandfather and grandmother were so different.

She's a China-born teochew, who speaks nothing but pure "China" teochew.

He's english speaking.

I loved my grandfather. He has always remained someone special even though I don't recall much about him. He made toys for us. He doted on me. I'd love to write more, but that's all I remember. Yet, till date, I still remember how he looked, how he sounded like, how he sat in his favourite chair in my house and how he looked like lying peacefully in the coffin. I remember how his funeral was like, where it was held, the bonding we had with our cousins, how it was the first time someone close to me passed away. I remember my brother giggling when everyone else was crying when my grandfather's coffin was pushed in to be cremated. He was just barely 4 years old then. I remember being solemn, only because I had no slightest idea what was going on.

Yes, the toys are still around. So is the chair. My dad will never throw it away despite it being extremely uncomfortable. I still get reminded of them everytime I sit on the chair, and everytime I use the washroom in the kitchen.

If he was still alive today, I'd like to believe, I would tell him lots, in English, cos that was the only language he would speak to me. I doubt he'll still be making toys for me, but come to think of it, he'd be very old. He was 71 when he passed away, which would make him 86 this year.

My grandmother, almost 90 this year I suppose, was always shuffling around the house during Chinese New Year's whoever's house she was staying at then. She would shuffle around and make it a point to talk to every one of her children, daughter-in-laws and grandchildren. Somehow, I doubt anyone appreciate her efforts, but she was always smiling from ear to ear on that day, toothless.

I guess in a way, she's considered to have had a good life. 6 sons, 1 daughter, 13 grandchildren, 1 great-granddaughter, with 2 granddaughters and 1 grandson married.

I wonder how is it like to be living in a world of silence. When you see everyone you love, but you can't hear what they're saying. You see their lips move, but no sound comes out of it. You speak, but not many understand.

I wonder, if you've ever heard my voice.