Jian was a time traveller of a different sort.

—

Jian: Age 5

It was Popo’s sixtieth birthday. Everyone was sitting around the big oak table, slurping their helping of longevity noodles. Jian even had her own serving, in her favourite plastic flower bowl. She grabbed the fork with one fist and a spoon in the other, happily scooping up the noodles and getting equal amounts in her mouth and on her face.

“Done!” she announced proudly as she scooped up the last noodles and looked up, expecting to be applauded.

At that moment, she saw her grandma, not as she was now, but lying in a bed, her face very pale and a real-unreal smile on her face.

Faced with the image, Jian did the only thing she knew: she howled with all the rage she could muster.

“Quiet, Jian, be quiet!” Mama smacked her on the mouth, but Jian didn’t even feel it. She just kept howling.

Mama looked around apologetically. “I don’t know what happened to ah girl, you’d think that someone -“

She clamped her mouth shut before any inauspicious words could leave her mouth.

—

Jian: Age 10

“Jian, Popo’s birthday is coming up. Have you finished making her a card?”

The corner of Jian’s mouth turned down and she continued scribbling circles on her drawing block.

“Jian, are you listening?” Mama picked up the blank card and placed it in front of her. “Popo is looking forward to her card. Don’t you want to make her a pretty one?”

“Not her birthday,” Jian mumbled.

“Yes, it’s not her birthday today, but it is tomorrow.”

“It’s not her birthday!” Jian screamed before standing up and running away, out of the room and into the furthest corner of the garden. She squatted down and stared at the grass. She was old enough to know that Popo would turn a year older even without a card, but she could still hope otherwise.

—

Jian: Age 15

Sitting on the bus, Jian looked out at the window. The scenery had changed gradually, moving from skyscrapers to tall HDBs and now, flat grass. It was as far from urban Singapore as you could get.

As she saw the now-familiar grounds approaching, Jian pressed the bell. She got off the bus, walked the short distance to the groundskeeper’s hut and bought a bouquet of flowers.

She wandered around the cemetery, finally spotting an empty plot. Respectfully, she placed the flowers on the ground.

“I will do this every week if you don’t take Popo away,” she bargained to no one in particular.

—

Jian: Aged 21

Doctor says Popo doesn’t have much time.

Clutching her phone, Jian walked into the hospital room. It had started out as a place of peace and good cheer, but now, it was full of hidden tears.

“Popo, how are you feeling?” Jian sat beside her grandmother, tenderly holding the old, wizened hands in hers.

Popo managed a smile. “Good,” she whispered, her voice soft but clear. “You’ll take care of your mother?”

“Of course.” Jian had expected her heart to break like it did so many times over the years, but over the past few days, she felt a sense of acceptance.

“You were always the smart one, grieving while I was still around to comfort. Oh, I know,” Popo said peacefully, “Do you think I would have missed the pattern? It was always around my birthday. It’s your mother that’s in denial over your behaviour.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jian whispered.

Popo lifted her hand and laid it on Jian’s head. “I’ll see you soon.”

That night, the machines gave their final call as Popo went to her forever home. Jian bent over, kissed the pale face of Popo, and said her final goodbyes.

Behind her, Mama started wailing with all the rage of a five-year-old.

A/N: Last night, my brother asked me if time travellers started grieving before an event occurred, prompting this story.