When I was young, I couldn't speak properly. This was due to a connecting tissue between the underside of my tongue and the bottom of my mouth. As such, I couldn't pronounce certain words properly, especially words that require the raising or curling of the tongue. In my 6th or 7th year, a decision was reached to correct this issue, and I was sent to a hospital. I vaguely remembered being wheeled to a room, given an injection and losing consciousness while being wheeled to the operating theatre. I was in the hospital for 5 days.
My mother was there on the first day I was admitted to the hospital, and she only visited me again on the final day. I remembered that when she left, she told me to be brave or courageous, and though I was slightly frightened, I didn't cry or sob at all.
When she visited me on the 5th day, and upon seeing her, I bursted into tears. Was that the first time I really learnt how to suppress my feelings? I don't really remember, but I believe so.
Many years later, when I pondered upon the surgery, I asked who was primarily responsible for sending me to the hospital and helping me correct my speech issue, and I was told it was my grandfather.
I didn't cry at his funeral, and I wondered why everyone else was crying. Now, I missed my grandfather. He was a kind person who doted upon me in many ways.
I missed you, ah kong...