The art of growing old

It's been quite a week. Our maid left and we've been doing a spot of housework. Xin's practicing hard for her show this weekend. I've got a few new things going at work. And I broke a heart. I didn't know it could still happen at my age. And as always, with me, it was the last thing I meant to do. Still, I am sure she will recover, carry on with her life. Perhaps hating me. But that cannot be helped.

Young people today don't want to get married. And I understand why. I remember my grandmother. She loved me as only grandmothers could - selflessly, patiently and caringly. She taught me about God (it doesn't matter which religion you followed, there is God and he has placed a guardian angel 8 inches above my head to look after me), about wisdom (it is better to be wise than to be anything else, and knowledge is not wisdom), and she told me the story of Solomon. I don't know if she was a Christian. She never went to church but I don't remember her being all that faithful a Taoist either. Perhaps she was a free-thinker, but perhaps she is a Christian at heart but such things were frowned upon in those days.

The most significant memory I have of her was when she lied for me. I had taken a cousin's shoe and hid it and they couldn't find it afterwards. I was accused (someone saw me) but I denied it. Truly, I had forgotten I did it. She said she did it. It was an accident, she knocked against the shoe and it fell into a drain. She made me apologise and I did. I realised, even then, that it wasn't a punishment but that she saw a nobility in me I didn't have. Noble people own up.

It's hard to explain. I too didn't want to marry when I was young. And yet, marry I did. I didn't want to have children. And yet, a father I became. I wanted to be rich and successful. I am neither, although I am not doing that badly. I realise now that it is the former that is important to God - that I marry, have a child and learn to love - not the latter. The latter is just a bonus, something to satisfy my selfish cravings and ambitions. And it is just as well that they were not satisfied.

I know love hurts. And there has been many times I wish I could do things differently. And the process of humbling us, through our failures as a parent, a spouse, a child or a lover, is perhaps the most painful of all. Why? Why does it have to hurt so much? Why are we so useless in loving the people who are so close to our hearts?

I remember my grandmother and I wonder if there were lessons from her life that she wanted to tell me. She never did. She simply encouraged me in everything I wanted to do. I wanted to paint - here is some money, buy your paint, go. I stayed out late - she waited and didn't scold. There were no questions, no recriminations, no lessons to learn. I wanted to go overseas - go. I have no money - never mind, borrow from your uncle, he will give it to you. Go do it.

I made my mistakes. Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she share her wisdom with me? Everything she taught me, I learnt before I was 8. By the time I was a teenager, it was all up to me. I was surely too young then to know so much about life. But she never told me, never taught me. She was just there. I could have gotten into bad company and taken drugs. Actually, I did. She never stopped me nor tried to save me. How did she know I will be alright?

And so today, I learnt that the greatest wisdom of all is to let go. Our children will make the mistakes we make - maybe more, maybe less. We cannot protect them, not even from the mistakes we made. They are not listening. Even the kindest advice is unwelcome nagging. The lessons I learnt are for me and all I can hope for is that I learnt them well. If I did, those I love will be stronger for it. My role is to be there. Not to teach, nor advise. But encourage and support. Mostly, though, to just be there.

It feels a lot like waiting. And as I think back about my grandmother, I realise that she was often just there. Waiting. No, waiting is not the right word. She didn't display the anxiety I feel. She was always available because she had nothing better to do. She was a housewife with servants. She didn't work - just walked around the house, not even going out for mahjong or anything like that. She had no hobbies that I can remember. She lived life more simply than I think possible. We had our own parents, and so she neither cooked for us nor looked after us.

Surely a meaningless life if ever there was one. I've wondered why it is that God wants a place in our human hearts? His law was written in stone, transcribed into a bibliotheque and translated into several languages. And yet, none of these are as precious to him as a place in our hearts. We who live but for an instant and are soon dead. It is in that very instant that God wants to enter us. Not after we are dead and have all the time in the world to appreciate his wisdom. So transient and ephemeral is our lives here, and yet, this is exactly why Jesus died and why God made the universe and moved the seas.

I remember my grandmother and I think I catch a glimpse. She continues to live in me and to teach me. And so, all I can do is to see you go with tears in my heart and love in my eyes.