Loss

I'm told your great grandmother had 8 sons, 5 of whom died while she was still alive. Your Ah Gong remembers 2 of them and one only just vaguely as a boy who very ill and coughed a lot. Tuberculosis maybe?

The other, died during a riot in the 1950s. There was a commotion outside the house. He went outside to look and was hit by 2 stray bullets whilst standing at the doorway. He was 16.

Out of fear that she will lose yet another child, your Ah Gong was taught never ever to called her "Mother".

This 16-year-old Granduncle of yours was credited to have kept his family alive during the Japanese occupation. He must have only been no more than 8-11 years old during that period. He picked up Japanese. Nobody knew how or who taught him. But with this ability, he managed to keep the family safe and fed with extra food rations from the soldiers, sometimes trading things like cigarettes with them.

Your Ah Gong said that when he died, your great grandmother tried to bite her own tongue off. I can imagine... how does anyone cope with such grief? Over and over and over and over again?