In Loving Memory

A quick note before I take off for the rest of this week to say I’m ok.
I’m saddened by her departure naturally, but most probably won't be able to tell by the way I’m gg about my routine pretty much like normal. Though of course I can’t say I felt very normal throughout the day. My thoughts kept drifting to my grandma – random snippets of what I remembered of her and our time together.
And the bit about her suffering a lot through the whole of last night disturbs me considerably. I had no idea. I was merrily chatting away on MSN with a friend. My uncle had informed my mom earlier that she was already looking a lot better than the day before. Now I’m convinced this is always a sign really, that death is near – how one’s condition suddenly improves after a prolonged period of illness. It has been the case for quite a few I’ve known who’ve passed on.

With her passing, so many things are now left uncertain. What of reunions? Will our families come together again on festive occasions or holidays as we did when she was around? What is to happen of the old house we grew up in and have so many fond memories of? How will the daily routines of my uncle and aunt change from here on?
We’ve all been so used to the idea of her being around that one just can’t help but feel the void now that she’s gone.

But I can’t say this is sudden or even unpredictable. For there were already a few scares previously that had prepared me for this day. After she suffered her first heart attack and subsequently grew frailer with each passing year, I find myself wondering more and more about when this day would come and when it does, how it would hit us and what it would be like. That’s of course not to say I look to this day; On the contrary, it’s precisely because I dread it’s impending nature that I was mindful.
And this time around, there were already tell-tale signs. Such as when she told my mom a couple of days back over the phone that she was too weak to even speak to her. We shd’ve picked up from there that this was unusually serious and not just the result of “a ‘bout of diarrhea”.
My uncle said she refused to be admitted into hospital until my Aunt Louisa arrived back home from Sarawak and needed much convincing before she finally relented. I’m just really consoled that she got her wish when she breathed her last. My aunt was by her side – she rushed back in time fortunately – and so was my cousin Ashley, whom we all know is one of her two favorites among the grandchildren.

Por por,
You may no longer be with us physically, but you'll live on in our hearts and in our minds.
And I look forward to seeing you again, when the time comes.

Rest in peace.