When a person dies, how much
would one weep?
How many tears would be shed?
How much time will it take to
move on?
I’ve been living with my
grandmother for more than 20 years now; she took me in when I was still a child
at 3 years of age. She was the only relative I had left.
It was a stormy night, I and my
parents were about to go home from my grandmother’s place. Just across the
intersection, there was an incoming trucker, who was apparently driving for
days. The lights went green, the truck didn’t stop, and it was a full-on
collision with our car. I was the only one who survived.
I was hospitalized for months,
and the only person who could have paid for my hospital fees were none other
than my grandmother, my only living relative.
Now she’s slowly being pulled towards
death, at a grand age of 89, she was feeling the effects of her age. She slowly
started to revert back to her younger years, eventually; she was starting to
forget about me.
I had no choice in the matter,
all I could do was wait, and prepare myself. No matter how much it pained me
when the only person who cared for you ever since you were young starts to
treat you like a stranger.
Each and every day I treat her
with care, fed her food, gave her medicine, and watched over her until she slept.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate it, but the only painful thing was, she
forgot who I was.
There were days when she says she
wants to go home, we were already in her house.
Sometimes she would talk about
how she misses her grandchild, while I was in the same room.
She would sometimes try to reach
something up high, like she was reaching out to heaven.
She talks to an open space,
saying it was her child, asking her if she wants to go somewhere far away.
Day by day it was a painful
experience, but all I could ever do was watch and understand what she’s going
through.
I wonder, when I grow old, will
someone take care of me too?
This post is dedicated to my grandmother, who is bedridden, in pain from diabetes attacks, and is waiting to pass on.
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