“Have you bought anything from her before?”
“No …”

I still wish I could change my answer. I wish I had bought something from her.

My friend was referring to the “Cineleisure Auntie” – a familiar white-haired stranger who used to sit at one of the busiest intersections on Orchard Road. Perhaps you’ve seen her between Mandarin Gallery and H&M, ever-present with an assortment of food items to sell.

Feeling guilty, I did think about buying something from her every time we crossed paths, maybe stay for a chat. Yet I chose not to, for there was always somewhere else to be – I never had enough reason to stay.

Next time, I reasoned.

Several months later, I would finally do something for that old auntie – just not in a way I ever expected.

 JUNE 6, 2014. I was in a morning class at school.

Out of the blue, Cineleisure Auntie suddenly popped into my head. I was surprised at the sheer strength of the impulse to look for her. 

I knew I had to.

I messaged a few friends who also knew her about my decision so I wouldn’t back out. I began to think and plan that afternoon: What could I bring for her? Does she drink coffee? Maybe I could bring doughnuts …

Then, one of my friends replied my text message. Cineleisure Auntie had been hospitalised. I would not be able to find her at her usual spot anymore.

This setback would surely have ended my quest in the past, but somehow, it was different this time.

As I waited for more news, I decided to go home to see if there was anything I could bring along in the event someone discovered her exact whereabouts.

On my way back, I received another text message. In the message was the name of the hospital and ward number Cineleisure Auntie was staying in.

When I got home, I was greeted by a surprised Mum – I wasn’t supposed to be home till later. She pointed to a large pot on the dining table and said, “I had a prompting in my heart that I should make soup today, even though none of you will be home for dinner tonight.”

The voices of doubt that had been stirring in my heart faded away.

Later, at about 2 in the afternoon, Mum and I arrived at Singapore General Hospital – armed with a thermos flask of chicken soup.

Block 6, Level 4, Ward 64, Room 18, Bed 5. I recited those lines several times in my mind while waiting in line to get a visitor pass.

I wondered what Cineleisure Auntie would be like: Would she welcome us? Does she speak Mandarin – or only dialect? Why is she in the hospital?

It was a big and open ward. There were eight beds and no privacy. Bed 5 was all the way inside, but it was by the window, at least. Cineleisure Auntie’s hair looked a lot whiter than I had remembered.

“Hello, Ah Ma.”

And with that, we became friends. Cineleisure Auntie warmed up to us quickly, especially when I told her I was a student. But what really worked was that pot of chicken soup.

Mum told Cineleisure Auntie that Heaven is where God is – a place where there would be no more pain.

Over the next two days, we bonded over Ben & Jerry’s and bird’s nest. We learnt that she was suffering from Stage 4 colon cancer. Her condition was deteriorating fast; her doctor had lifted her dietary restrictions so that she could enjoy the time she had left.

Though she would drift in and out of consciousness, Cineleisure Auntie’s wits were always sharp whenever she awoke. In her lucid moments, we talked about our Teochew roots, and sometimes about the discomfort that she was feeling in her abdomen.

Mum talked to her about Heaven. She told her that Heaven is where God is – a place where there would be no more pain (Revelation 21:4).

It was my first time hearing about Heaven in dialect, and while I only understood bits and pieces of what they were talking about, I could see in Cineleisure Auntie’s eyes that she was listening intently. I believe she understood everything that was being shared with her.

Finally, my Mum asked her to pray to Jesus and welcome Him into her heart. She did.

Four days later, she slipped into a coma and passed away shortly after.

Although Cineleisure Auntie lived alone and had no kin, she wasn’t alone in her last days at the hospital. A group of friends were there for her daily, rallied by a young student named Shermaine, who had befriended her during her hawking days. 

Facebook user Tere Han had posted about Cineleisure Auntie’s deteriorating health condition. Shermaine responded by tracking her down, from her house to the hospital she was admitted to.

If it wasn’t for Shermaine, who persisted in looking for an old lady she was not obliged to care for, or our mutual friend who helped me connect the dots, I may never have been able to meet Cineleisure Auntie.

I also suspect that if it wasn’t for Diane – the writer who chronicled her encounter with Cineleisure Auntie in a blog post that went viral – I may not have kept her in my mind for as long as I did.

Only now do I realise to my amazement that the day I made my very first hospital visit to meet Cineleisure Auntie was an exact year after Diane’s post was published.

Each of us had our own story as to how we got to know Cineleisure Auntie, but I know that God was the common thread that linked our stories together.

She may have spent most of her days surrounded by strangers passing her by, but at the end of her life, Cineleisure Auntie was surrounded by family, albeit of a different kind – people God had sent to bring her back to Him.

Each of us had our own story as to how we got to know Cineleisure Auntie, but I know that God was the common thread that linked our stories together.

He was the most important company she would keep during her final days on earth – and in the days beyond. All because we responded to the call to bring her some chicken soup and the Good News of Jesus Christ (John 3:16).

As we watched Cineleisure Auntie’s coffin roll past the viewing gallery into the furnace, the heavy atmosphere was punctured by joy when someone shouted: “Ah Ma, see you in Heaven!”

God, I’m so glad I got to meet Ah Ma. And I can’t wait to see her again.