Essay : A Terrible Mistake

An essay I wrote for my Midyear 2006 English Paper 1. Got 20/30 for it...

I thought I was right, but it was not to be. It was a mistake. He meant well. His good intentions were thought to be ill. I regretted deeply, but it was too late, too late to redeem myself and make amends.

He was a stern old man and he spoke with command. At the age of sixty, he was considered fit and healthy. His eyes animated and twinkled whenever he spoke. He was my grandfather. And I hated him.

Grandfather doted on his grandchildren, or rather, his grandsons. I was his only granddaughter and his attitude towards me was entirely different. Not that I blamed him. I was the one that dashed the high hopes he had pinned on my mother. I was a result of her mistake.

Mother gave birth to me at seventeen. The culprit – my biological father, denied responsibility. My grandmother, a devout Buddhist, was against the idea of abortion. So here I am, the person that ruined my mother’s bright future.

“No TV before you finish your homework!” Grandfather commanded. I tried to argue, but I was greeted with a cold, hard stare. I kept quiet and retreated back to my room. I slammed the door shut and began cursing that old man. Why make life difficult for me? I did not ask to be brought to this world, this ugly reality!

I did my homework and went to watch the last episode of this programme that I have been catching. But I was too late! The show was over. If only he had relented and not insisted that I do my homework! It was then Grandmother came and handed me a tape. “Grandfather recorded this for you. It is the last episode,” I took the tape from her. Sometimes I wished that grandmother would stop giving credit to grandfather for the things she did.

That was not all. Grandfather’s hostile attitude to me was unbearable. He had never ever smiled at me and he never told me any jokes before. Sometimes I envy other people with a happy family – and a doting grandfather.

Saturdays were the most torturing day of the week. It was the day my cousins would visit. Grandfather and grandmother loved Saturdays, and they looked forward to them. “Ah Yi and Ah Soon will be coming!” Grandmother would always say to me, her face beaming with joy.

Ah Yi and Ah Soon, my two cousins, were mischievous and full of tricks. They are rude and naughty. But their playfulness was thought to be “cute”. That was the unfair treatment I was getting.

Grandfather would smile that once every week when Ah Yi and Ah Soon arrived. He would then talk and play with them and he would even tell them bedtime stories for their afternoon nap. Grandfather never told me any stories before! Why that cold treatment? I did not do anything wrong!

It happened on this Saturday. It was another very typical day. Ah Yi and Ah Soon came. Grandfather played with them, and he fell. He fell hard on his back. He was rushed to a hospital. It was a trip of “no return”.
And it was a turning point for me.

His condition got worst as each day past. Time was running out for him, the doctor said. Indeed. He became weaker and the twinkle in his eyes disappeared. But his poor attitude towards me was still the same.

I started avoiding him, refusing to visit him at the hospital. Why should I do so when he would not even be happy when I visit him? So what if he is my grandfather? But how wrong I was! If only I had visited him…

Grandfather died soon after. I did not shed a single tear. Well, I felt a tingle of remorse but that was it! Call me cold-hearted, but I did not feel anything for that old man despite living under the same roof as him for fifteen years.

Grandmother called me to her room after grandfather was cremated. That poor old woman. She looked so lost and forlorn after her only support was gone. “Darling, grandma needs to talk to you,” she whispered. She looked so tired and fragile. “I’m listening, grandmother,” I said, managing a weak smile to ease the tension.

“Grandfather really loved you. He wants the best for you. He wants you to excel in life. He had high hopes pinned on you, just like how he had high hopes on your mother. He was strict because he did not want you to follow your mother and repeat history…” Grandmother cried, as her voice trailed off.

A single tear dropped and my eyes became watery. I wiped it away with the back of my sleeve. I wanted to speak, but I chocked on my saliva. I thought he hated me. He had never smiled nor joked with me. Grandmother’s words rang in my head. “Grandfather really loved you”.

So I wronged him. The dying man wanted to see me at his deathbed but I refused to visit him. There were the little things he did for me, but he did not acknowledge them.

I thought he hated me. I thought I was right. But it was not to be. It was a mistake. He meant well. But it was too late to make amends. Every night, I pray for grandfather’s forgiveness and my insensibility. I thought I was right, but I was wrong. Terribly wrong…