Last April, I dreamt about him and woke with cold fear. I knew then, he wouldn't be with me for very much longer. This Chinese New Year, I had a premonition that it could be his last.
When he passes on, a chapter of my life will close. As much as I'd like him to see me through all stages of my life, I must now accept that he never will. He was such a hunk and so much taller than I am. Now, he has shrunk to a quarter of his size. His body is nothing but withered skin and fragile bones. He is 99yrs old.
I'm closer to him than to my parents. He is so curious about everything. He fuelled my dreams. He is such an active man. He doesn't fear death. But he fears old age and the debilitating effects on his physical body. I think he wants to live. His eyes are swollen shut. He can't talk. But his grunts tell me that he is exasperated at being trapped in a body that won't do his bidding.
I slip into the hospital in the night to see him. I don't need all that drama of letting extended family know that I went. I'm doing this for my grandfather, not to put on a show of filial piety. My heart ached at the sight of all the tubes inserted into his swollen limbs. He is in such pain. His pulse is erratic. he flits in and out of consciousness. He grows weaker by the day. As his organs shut down one by one, his darkened skin felt colder to the touch. Soon, his strong heart will be persuaded to stop beating.
I pray for his quick passing.
I love him. But I have to let him. And he has to give up this fight. No matter how long I held his hands to warm them, it wasn't enough. I didn't dare to rub his skin that was already dry, brittle and all papery. I stared at his hands. How is it that I never noticed that we have the same long fingers and wide nails.
When he passes on, a chapter of my life will close. As much as I'd like him to see me through all stages of my life, I must now accept that he never will. He was such a hunk and so much taller than I am. Now, he has shrunk to a quarter of his size. His body is nothing but withered skin and fragile bones. He is 99yrs old.
I'm closer to him than to my parents. He is so curious about everything. He fuelled my dreams. He is such an active man. He doesn't fear death. But he fears old age and the debilitating effects on his physical body. I think he wants to live. His eyes are swollen shut. He can't talk. But his grunts tell me that he is exasperated at being trapped in a body that won't do his bidding.
I slip into the hospital in the night to see him. I don't need all that drama of letting extended family know that I went. I'm doing this for my grandfather, not to put on a show of filial piety. My heart ached at the sight of all the tubes inserted into his swollen limbs. He is in such pain. His pulse is erratic. he flits in and out of consciousness. He grows weaker by the day. As his organs shut down one by one, his darkened skin felt colder to the touch. Soon, his strong heart will be persuaded to stop beating.
I pray for his quick passing.
I love him. But I have to let him. And he has to give up this fight. No matter how long I held his hands to warm them, it wasn't enough. I didn't dare to rub his skin that was already dry, brittle and all papery. I stared at his hands. How is it that I never noticed that we have the same long fingers and wide nails.
