24 June 2016; the day you left.
From the moment I received the phone call at 4 p.m in my office till the day of your cremation, feelings were bottled up, countless urges to let loose of my emotion were suppressed. In denial of how much I couldn't bear for you to leave, I overwhelmed myself with whispering and whimpering of "She's rid of all pain & suffering", "She's in Heaven" that only I could hear.
I remembered I've once documented my realisation here of how selfish I am to be fearful of the death of my love ones. I'm selfish because I am afraid of what's to become/left of me when a significant part of me is gone with their departure.
This time round, I tried my best to be selfless, to think of the best of your departure for you instead of the worst of your departure for me. So I suppressed, so I showered myself with heavenly consoles instead of loud warm tears.
The act that I put up was all good until I woke up from a nap after 'everything' was settled. Or was it? And will it?
Staring at the boring blank space with hubs in the background asking what's for dinner, I got myself half dressed before sitting at the edge of the bed and continued with the aimless staring. Hubs got fed up because his presence was ignored, his repeated question of what do I want for dinner was left unanswered, so he yelled instead of asked. Then I broke down. Not because he got mad at me but because reality finally hit me hard.
I cried so hard my tears dried up yet the wallows couldn't stop. I was still selfish. I didn't want you to leave. Even though for years you couldn't remember me, I was happy and contented being able to see you, touch you, feed you, baby cradled you and speak to you in your own language. Now your departure rids me of all these, the precious minimal things that I could still do with the amnesic you.
Grandma, you left not remembering who am I but I will always remember all my 25 years with you.
