Goodbye to You, Grandma
I don't pretend to know my grandmother. In fact, I speak quite frankly, and quite brutally-honestly, when I say that I -barely- know her at all. Yet, from what I hear of her past treatment of my mother, I can safely say that she's not my favourite person.
My grandmother, the last of my grandparents both maternal and paternal died at 9:30 PM today, just one day after Mother's Day. She had been admitted into Adventist Hospital this afternoon. The last things I said to her were, "Por por, ngo yi kar fan hoi seen. Ngo yang kan choi fan-fan kor lei."
Grandma, I'm going home now. I'll be back later.
I came back, indeed; to drop mom off at the hospital, so that she could follow her siblings over to BM to prepare for the funeral.
I'm not a heartless grandchild. I am indifferent. I don't know her that well, and if I were to cry, it would be for all the wrong reasons; I had a love-hate relationship with that woman. I have no desire to cry right now, because I know she's not suffering any more.
She died of multiple system organ failure. Her remaining kidney was shot. Her amputated leg had gangrene. Her other leg had started to turn necrotic, and had become infected; and this infection, in turn, had spread to the rest of her body, which was now too weak to fight it. Her heart was weak, and her blood pressure was low; at the same time, she was at a risk for a stroke. There was liquid in her lungs, and she had trouble breathing.
She's fought a long and hard battle, these past few years, and I salute her for that; it cannot have been easy living with all that. No matter how much I may have been indifferent towards her, I was there to see her one last time at the hospital. I was there when I could be there, and that counts for me; for my conscience.
Right now, I can't recall the last time I was at her house in BM with her still alive, but when I step into that place tomorrow, I know it's going to be the beginning of the end. All my grandparents are gone. What's next?
Oh, dear Lord, I don't want to think of that. Mortality is a terrifying thing, even when the person who's recently deceased isn't close to your heart.
So this is goodbye for us, grandma. I'll remember you, and I'll think of you with my gong-gong, up wherever you are, reunited at last. I'm glad you're through with the pain I know you were in. I really, truly am glad your suffering is over. I'm sorry if ever you thought I was a heartless grandchild; I am indifferent, but I never wanted you dead.
Rest in peace.
My grandmother, the last of my grandparents both maternal and paternal died at 9:30 PM today, just one day after Mother's Day. She had been admitted into Adventist Hospital this afternoon. The last things I said to her were, "Por por, ngo yi kar fan hoi seen. Ngo yang kan choi fan-fan kor lei."
Grandma, I'm going home now. I'll be back later.
I came back, indeed; to drop mom off at the hospital, so that she could follow her siblings over to BM to prepare for the funeral.
I'm not a heartless grandchild. I am indifferent. I don't know her that well, and if I were to cry, it would be for all the wrong reasons; I had a love-hate relationship with that woman. I have no desire to cry right now, because I know she's not suffering any more.
She died of multiple system organ failure. Her remaining kidney was shot. Her amputated leg had gangrene. Her other leg had started to turn necrotic, and had become infected; and this infection, in turn, had spread to the rest of her body, which was now too weak to fight it. Her heart was weak, and her blood pressure was low; at the same time, she was at a risk for a stroke. There was liquid in her lungs, and she had trouble breathing.
She's fought a long and hard battle, these past few years, and I salute her for that; it cannot have been easy living with all that. No matter how much I may have been indifferent towards her, I was there to see her one last time at the hospital. I was there when I could be there, and that counts for me; for my conscience.
Right now, I can't recall the last time I was at her house in BM with her still alive, but when I step into that place tomorrow, I know it's going to be the beginning of the end. All my grandparents are gone. What's next?
Oh, dear Lord, I don't want to think of that. Mortality is a terrifying thing, even when the person who's recently deceased isn't close to your heart.
So this is goodbye for us, grandma. I'll remember you, and I'll think of you with my gong-gong, up wherever you are, reunited at last. I'm glad you're through with the pain I know you were in. I really, truly am glad your suffering is over. I'm sorry if ever you thought I was a heartless grandchild; I am indifferent, but I never wanted you dead.
Rest in peace.