I still remember about four years ago when I held my grandfather's hand. He was in the sickbed.
Although he couldn't talk much that time, but he caressed my hand softly, weakly, telling me "It's okay dear. I know what I'm going through, and you don't have to worry about me." He smiled faintly.
I was young that time, I've never really experience someone so close to me - dying. I look at his face, expecting him to recover 2 weeks later and goes about in the house doing things he likes to do - painting, making snacks for everyone (I always join his snack sessions), gardening, annoying my aunt.
Little did I know that he wouldn't be coming back anymore.
It was cancer.
And then one afternoon my father received the call. We rushed over, but it was too late. I saw the body, and for the first time in my life, someone close to me in my life had just passed away. I didn't know what to say, I kneeled beside my grandpa beside his bed, murmuring prayers, a sensation of tight grip forming around my throat, I couldn't breathe and was about to break down but I couldn't break down. I must hold my tears back, I must let my grandfather leave in peace, I must let him know that I'll be fine and I am strong.
But when my uncle read his eulogy somehow tears filled up my eyes. I tried not to blink. But the tears fell on its own. On and on it went. The tight grip around my throat choked me, my heart burnt, I couldn't see anything anymore except just the floor and several tear drops on the floor and also my feet. My uncle's eulogy reading was in the background, but I was still paying attention to it, remembering everything about my grandfather.
He was the one who picked my name for me, every single word has its own meaning but not just because it's trendy and popular. He was someone who lived life meaningfully and he cared about the people around him. I still remember the times he stood up for me, although the matter seemed minute, but he liked to spoil this particular granddaughter in this way.
Everytime I see any old sweetie with a head of pure white hair I couldn't help but thought of my grandfather. When I was very young, about 9 years old, I used to sleepover at my grandparent's home and every night he'd make supper for me. Instant noodles with egg, I still remember. Then he'd watch me eat and told me not to tell my aunt because the next day if my aunt finds out about it she'd erupt.
He used to wash car for my aunt, his daughter, every morning before she goes to work. He'd wipe it until sparkling clean. He kept that up even though he was old, about 80+ years old. My father learned a lot from him. Grandpa was the plumber and the repairer in the house. There was almost nothing he couldn't fix, if you give him time, he could fix a radio, a water heater, a broken pipe, a dripping tap, a tearful face, a broken heart, a blocked mind.
When I was young I was given a lot of incentives for my academic achievements from my grandpa. And he wouldn't let the adults take my money and put it in a bank or somewhere where I couldn't use it and spend it. Even if it's not for any particular reason, he'd stuff money into my pocket, putting a finger to his mouth, "Shh", and winked at me. He'd tell me to "Go buy something you like to eat." And I did, I still do. Even now, I'd pamper myself and buy something nice to eat once in a while.
I have a photo of him and my grandma hanging in my room now. When things go tough on me I'd just look at the photo, wondering what would my grandparents say to me if they're still here now. I depend a lot on them for guidance. Although not physically but spiritually, it's all the same anyway.
There are so many values and life lessons I can learn just by looking at my grandfather. Nobody in my life can substitute him for being the role model for me. I respect him and most importantly I still do love him.
He lives in my heart.
Yvonne..
Although he couldn't talk much that time, but he caressed my hand softly, weakly, telling me "It's okay dear. I know what I'm going through, and you don't have to worry about me." He smiled faintly.
I was young that time, I've never really experience someone so close to me - dying. I look at his face, expecting him to recover 2 weeks later and goes about in the house doing things he likes to do - painting, making snacks for everyone (I always join his snack sessions), gardening, annoying my aunt.
Little did I know that he wouldn't be coming back anymore.
It was cancer.
And then one afternoon my father received the call. We rushed over, but it was too late. I saw the body, and for the first time in my life, someone close to me in my life had just passed away. I didn't know what to say, I kneeled beside my grandpa beside his bed, murmuring prayers, a sensation of tight grip forming around my throat, I couldn't breathe and was about to break down but I couldn't break down. I must hold my tears back, I must let my grandfather leave in peace, I must let him know that I'll be fine and I am strong.
But when my uncle read his eulogy somehow tears filled up my eyes. I tried not to blink. But the tears fell on its own. On and on it went. The tight grip around my throat choked me, my heart burnt, I couldn't see anything anymore except just the floor and several tear drops on the floor and also my feet. My uncle's eulogy reading was in the background, but I was still paying attention to it, remembering everything about my grandfather.
He was the one who picked my name for me, every single word has its own meaning but not just because it's trendy and popular. He was someone who lived life meaningfully and he cared about the people around him. I still remember the times he stood up for me, although the matter seemed minute, but he liked to spoil this particular granddaughter in this way.
Everytime I see any old sweetie with a head of pure white hair I couldn't help but thought of my grandfather. When I was very young, about 9 years old, I used to sleepover at my grandparent's home and every night he'd make supper for me. Instant noodles with egg, I still remember. Then he'd watch me eat and told me not to tell my aunt because the next day if my aunt finds out about it she'd erupt.
He used to wash car for my aunt, his daughter, every morning before she goes to work. He'd wipe it until sparkling clean. He kept that up even though he was old, about 80+ years old. My father learned a lot from him. Grandpa was the plumber and the repairer in the house. There was almost nothing he couldn't fix, if you give him time, he could fix a radio, a water heater, a broken pipe, a dripping tap, a tearful face, a broken heart, a blocked mind.
When I was young I was given a lot of incentives for my academic achievements from my grandpa. And he wouldn't let the adults take my money and put it in a bank or somewhere where I couldn't use it and spend it. Even if it's not for any particular reason, he'd stuff money into my pocket, putting a finger to his mouth, "Shh", and winked at me. He'd tell me to "Go buy something you like to eat." And I did, I still do. Even now, I'd pamper myself and buy something nice to eat once in a while.
I have a photo of him and my grandma hanging in my room now. When things go tough on me I'd just look at the photo, wondering what would my grandparents say to me if they're still here now. I depend a lot on them for guidance. Although not physically but spiritually, it's all the same anyway.
There are so many values and life lessons I can learn just by looking at my grandfather. Nobody in my life can substitute him for being the role model for me. I respect him and most importantly I still do love him.
He lives in my heart.
Yvonne..
