Esther Ariamalar Poore had a smile sweeter than ice cream. Photo: Louisa Lenus
After my grandaunt Esther Ariamalar Poore’s funeral service and cremation on March 7, 2024, I waited a week for this final crucial part to happen – the arrival of her death certificate and ashes.
On March 14, 2024, both were delivered to my home. Finally, she came back to me. While her soul we know has returned to her Maker, this is what remains of her earthly and physical body. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
It felt surreal knowing she’s here but not really. She would’ve turned 90 on Oct 31.
Who was this woman to her family?
The fifth of six children (with four brothers, one sister), she had lived on for many years after they’d all left. She never married or had children but took care of so many for a large portion of her great life.
Many had sought refuge in her Taman Yarl sanctuary with the giant mango tree and a tiny ciku one. Kids, like silly monkeys, had climbed the big one many a time as well as run around the small one, playing catch or fetch, laughing.
Her single-storey corner bungalow was right next to the playground with the football field.
Her house was where tired teenagers came for iced water after a game; where neighbours rushed to for cover from the rain; the lodge for respite and recreation when relatives visited from overseas.
It was where Santa Tata (grandfather) came each year with gifts for all the children in the area.
The writer, then aged seven, with her grandaunt Esther Poore in 1991. Photo: Deborah Joy Peter
She would cook for anyone who was hungry or make us the desserts of our dreams. All we had to do was ask: “Pati (Grandmother), I want dodol. Pati, I want coconut candy. Can you make it for me? I want fried rice. I want egg sandwiches. I want curry. I am hungry, Pati.” Pati, this and Pati, that. And just like that, she would slog in the kitchen and make us our desired guilty pleasures – and then some.
When the bread man or cendol uncle came by, we would rush out to grab whatever we wanted. She treated us to it all without thought of self. She never asked for anything.
She always said, “My Lord takes care of me. I don’t need anything.” She would read her Bible and pray every day. She attended church even well into her 80s, until she could not anymore.
So, if one had love and faith like that, I’d say then that’s who Heaven is for. An angel on earth. I could not fill her big shoes of kindness even if I tried a lifetime.
She was also a babysitter to the kids of young couples and families who had to rush to work in the morning.
The writer spent time with her grandaunt at the hospital in 2020.
My Pati was the only person with whom I could do no wrong. She was truly unconditional with her love for me.
I’ll always love you, Pati. I am sorry for all the times I made it impossible. Be at peace and rest in His arms.
I shall have you here with me until it is time to scatter your ashes by the water.
You rest, Pati.
