Aunty Ruth visited us once every 2-3 years
and would stay for a few weeks each time. We would look forward to her visits
for weeks and weeks, and when she was leaving we would complain that she was
leaving us “Ruth-less”.
I remember being so excited every time she
came, that she would barely be unpacked before I would be in her room eagerly
waiting to show her my latest stuffed toy, book or discovery. She really
engaged with us and immersed herself in our lives. When I was about four, she
visited around Halloween and we spent days turning the upstairs room into a
haunted house, complete with body parts, paper-mache spiders and “hollow men”.
Aunty Ruth gamely donned a white blanket to act as the main attraction. I also
remember being so caught up in the fantasy that I scared myself as we were
showing Mum and Dad around the room. I burst out in tears when we got to Aunty
Ruth sitting in a chair going “wooooohh”. This quite alarmed Aunty Ruth and she
had to take off the blanket to reassure me that everything was okay!
Aunty Ruth shared with us her love of God.
Aunty had a firm and unshakable faith in God. On one visit, I had just started
reading the Bible for myself and Aunty Ruth took time to talk to me about God
and life. One of my most vivid memories was from just before Christmas, when I
was about 6. I had just learnt how to type and for my first project, had
decided to retype the entire Gospel of Luke for Christmas. Aunty spent the
better part of the afternoon and the night reading Luke to me as I laboriously
entered each word into the computer. I lost that file a long time ago, but it
was special being around someone who truly loved the Word and encouraged me to
read the Bible for myself. When I was only 2, she sent us a collection of
devotions she had written, and intended for me to read when I was older. I
think her writing inspired me to start writing myself. I produced stories under
“Lee Family Publications” like Aunty’s “RHL Press”, although that’s another
story.
Aunty Ruth’s love of music also spilled
over to us. During her visits she could often be found at the piano playing
hymns or “campfire” tunes from Grandpa’s songbook. I did not have music lessons
growing up, and Sister’s relationship with piano lessons was not entirely
positive, but we loved singing to Aunty Ruth’s piano playing. Over the years,
Mum taught me to read notes and Aunty Ruth would patiently accompany me with
the harmony as I painstakingly picked out the melody with one hand. Music was
such a part of Aunty Ruth’s life and she encouraged my early interest in music.
Aunty Ruth came over again two years ago in
2013. I was serving National Service in the Air Force and was only home in the
evenings. I was tired most of the time, but we had the chance to spend time
together over meals and outings to all the new sights around Singapore.
What I will remember most about Aunty Ruth
was how she always made time for us, and was genuinely interested in what we
were doing. She seemed to be an amazing cornucopia of knowledge and wisdom (I
think we called her that at one point!)—she always had something witty to say,
or an interesting nugget of literary, historical or cultural information to
share. But at the same time, she was a Cornucopia
who loved us dearly, and wanted us to grow up with solid values, love and
security.
