Goodbye
They say that we encounter many firsts in the course of our lives. Today was the first time I lost someone close to me - my maternal grandmother passed away in the middle of the night.
It was the first time I saw my mum break down, as she held her mother's shoulders and called her as if it would bring her back, crying as if a part of her had died too. I suppose it did.
It was the first time I saw my cousins cry. I'd grown up somehow thinking that both my cousins were tough-as-nails all the time and never cried. I was wrong.
It was the first time in almost a decade that I saw my mum standing with her three sisters after a huge family feud.
It wasn't as though I'd never seen a dead body, either - it was just the first time that the deceased had actually meant something to me.
Those eyes that had watched me grow up - they would never open again.
Those hands that had raised me from infancy - I would never get to hold them again.
It hit me then that I would never hear my grandmother's voice again, whether to ask me if I'd eaten or to impatiently huff when I couldn't understand what she said (I don't quite understand Cantonese). My grandmother had passed through the veil, and she wasn't coming back.
Obviously, I'm not the only one grieving, but it's true how they say that grievance is personal to each person. It was a line I read once in childhood and never understood till today. It was true how grievance was personal to everyone - it differed for each person. I grieved because I lost a grandmother, and because her story was now over. My mum grieved because she lost her mother, and because she regretted not being able to visit her in the hospital yesterday.
Everyone's asking if I'm okay - I keep saying I don't know, because I feel numb and empty but the tears won't stop.
All I can be grateful for right now is that at least my grandmother passed away peacefully - she died in her sleep, and the doctors told us that she endured no pain or suffering in her last hours.
At least my grandparents will be together now.
It was the first time I saw my mum break down, as she held her mother's shoulders and called her as if it would bring her back, crying as if a part of her had died too. I suppose it did.
It was the first time I saw my cousins cry. I'd grown up somehow thinking that both my cousins were tough-as-nails all the time and never cried. I was wrong.
It was the first time in almost a decade that I saw my mum standing with her three sisters after a huge family feud.
It wasn't as though I'd never seen a dead body, either - it was just the first time that the deceased had actually meant something to me.
Those eyes that had watched me grow up - they would never open again.
Those hands that had raised me from infancy - I would never get to hold them again.
It hit me then that I would never hear my grandmother's voice again, whether to ask me if I'd eaten or to impatiently huff when I couldn't understand what she said (I don't quite understand Cantonese). My grandmother had passed through the veil, and she wasn't coming back.
Obviously, I'm not the only one grieving, but it's true how they say that grievance is personal to each person. It was a line I read once in childhood and never understood till today. It was true how grievance was personal to everyone - it differed for each person. I grieved because I lost a grandmother, and because her story was now over. My mum grieved because she lost her mother, and because she regretted not being able to visit her in the hospital yesterday.
Everyone's asking if I'm okay - I keep saying I don't know, because I feel numb and empty but the tears won't stop.
All I can be grateful for right now is that at least my grandmother passed away peacefully - she died in her sleep, and the doctors told us that she endured no pain or suffering in her last hours.
At least my grandparents will be together now.
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