Saturday, July 03, 2010
Missing Puzzles
The puzzles are slowly forming a picture of the family tree.
Have you wondered about your own family history?
I haven't.
I guess because I was told at a young age by my parents that they have never seen their grandparents. So my family lineage or history pretty much stopped at my grandparents.
Our family history seemed straightforward enough. Both sides of my grandparents came from various parts of Southern China and settled in Singapore at some point in their lives. They all came from humble beginnings, no exotic stories to tell. Plain vanilla, typical stories of the Chinese migrant into Singapore variety. My paternal grandfather is a shoemaker and my maternal grandfather is a barber. That much I know. I never converse much to my father's parents since I couldn't speak Cantonese when I was a child and my mum told us that our grandparents favour our male cousins who lived with them over us girls. Perhaps, Mum didn't want us to have much to do with my dad's side of the family. Not that I really care. On the other hand, I love my maternal grandparents, especially my grandmother. She was my very first love, I dare say. I didn't love anyone but her since she looked after me and lived with us until I was eight when she passed away. I was so very attached to her and she and only she could allay my gigantic insecurities as a child. Her presence was my only comfort. I knew she was going to die the day before she did. It was a strong premonition for a child. I cried on Friday and she was gone the next day.
*****
But as some of you are aware, I am fond of finding out about another person's history.
As usual, I was browsing and chanced upon someone's family history.
Some old black and white photos of the colonial era. It was in its heydays.
I got a piece into that someone's life, background and even further before that someone's existence, the history of the family of a forgotten era.
Curiouser, curiouser. Like an onion, I am peeling the skin layer by layer, a little closer to the core. I am getting a little piece of that someone, like there is much more to know, much more to discover. A step closer. Yet another tug at my heart.
The point is what's the point?
None, except to satiate my curiosity to gain an insight into the life of that someone I once shared a brief moment with. An insight into his life before me and really to stretch it much further, a time before he too existed.
I am a nostalgic and sentimental person. Black and white photos have a way of invoking my emotions.
But I am rarely in love, except with the notion of being in love.
However, I think I have been in love with this one.
Getting glimpses of images of those yesteryears touch my heart. I am heartened to have chanced upon it. I feel a little closer to this beloved stranger although I haven't known him for a long time. Water under the bridge.
Separate way, separate lives we have since lived. I have long come to terms. I don't know if I am expressing myself correctly- I think our situation is the is. There are no two ways to how our lives could have unfolded in any case- romantiscing has never been my forte.
Like a curious bystander, I am wont to linger and keep vigilant.
I like to know what he doesn't know, which is I am still there in thoughts and spirit.
My ego was prone to make a point and have the last say. The need to has long been surrendered. The truth from one's heart has a poignant way of silencing one's outward eloquence.
Like one who has become engaged to life from trauma, my persona is never quite the same again.
Heartfelt. I feel like I have just learnt a new word.
The puzzles are slowly forming a picture of the family tree.
Have you wondered about your own family history?
I haven't.
I guess because I was told at a young age by my parents that they have never seen their grandparents. So my family lineage or history pretty much stopped at my grandparents.
Our family history seemed straightforward enough. Both sides of my grandparents came from various parts of Southern China and settled in Singapore at some point in their lives. They all came from humble beginnings, no exotic stories to tell. Plain vanilla, typical stories of the Chinese migrant into Singapore variety. My paternal grandfather is a shoemaker and my maternal grandfather is a barber. That much I know. I never converse much to my father's parents since I couldn't speak Cantonese when I was a child and my mum told us that our grandparents favour our male cousins who lived with them over us girls. Perhaps, Mum didn't want us to have much to do with my dad's side of the family. Not that I really care. On the other hand, I love my maternal grandparents, especially my grandmother. She was my very first love, I dare say. I didn't love anyone but her since she looked after me and lived with us until I was eight when she passed away. I was so very attached to her and she and only she could allay my gigantic insecurities as a child. Her presence was my only comfort. I knew she was going to die the day before she did. It was a strong premonition for a child. I cried on Friday and she was gone the next day.
*****
But as some of you are aware, I am fond of finding out about another person's history.
As usual, I was browsing and chanced upon someone's family history.
Some old black and white photos of the colonial era. It was in its heydays.
I got a piece into that someone's life, background and even further before that someone's existence, the history of the family of a forgotten era.
Curiouser, curiouser. Like an onion, I am peeling the skin layer by layer, a little closer to the core. I am getting a little piece of that someone, like there is much more to know, much more to discover. A step closer. Yet another tug at my heart.
The point is what's the point?
None, except to satiate my curiosity to gain an insight into the life of that someone I once shared a brief moment with. An insight into his life before me and really to stretch it much further, a time before he too existed.
I am a nostalgic and sentimental person. Black and white photos have a way of invoking my emotions.
But I am rarely in love, except with the notion of being in love.
However, I think I have been in love with this one.
Getting glimpses of images of those yesteryears touch my heart. I am heartened to have chanced upon it. I feel a little closer to this beloved stranger although I haven't known him for a long time. Water under the bridge.
Separate way, separate lives we have since lived. I have long come to terms. I don't know if I am expressing myself correctly- I think our situation is the is. There are no two ways to how our lives could have unfolded in any case- romantiscing has never been my forte.
Like a curious bystander, I am wont to linger and keep vigilant.
I like to know what he doesn't know, which is I am still there in thoughts and spirit.
My ego was prone to make a point and have the last say. The need to has long been surrendered. The truth from one's heart has a poignant way of silencing one's outward eloquence.
Like one who has become engaged to life from trauma, my persona is never quite the same again.
Heartfelt. I feel like I have just learnt a new word.
