After getting used to everything here,
I begin to miss my grandfather.
He was one always upright and strong.
Almost my height, he was someone I looked up to.
To quote Eug, my role model and someone I wanted to connect to.
I was the closest to him among my brothers, I asked him questions, he was wise.
He was a doctor, a cook, a magician and a friend to me.
I learnt teochew to be able to speak to him.
I cant really verbalize my thoughts right now, but the time he hugged me in Beijing and the strength he showed climbing the great wall to its highest point; that memory, always.
I never showed any emotion at all, I was wondering why it took so long.
There was only twice.
There first while I held my grandmother and we walked behind that white van. She was sniffling, and so was I. She was soft and light, He was big and strong. He showed that child in me the Man I should look up to.
The second was during the cremation as I stood around my cousins.
There was sad music playing and I knew that was the part people get their worst out. (sorry I cant really type my usual style)
and I saw his picture on the reflection on the window, wearing his signature Shanghai cap.
And I remembered everything, and they way we used to go to his shop to help out to sell papayas or durians or vegetables. and the way he came out of the room while we stayed over barely a month before his passing and looked at us incredulously because we were playing music and eating codfish my the handful or the way he talked to me on when to get a girlfriend when I felt we really connected or when he held my hand and told me about the nervous points, or when he came every Sunday just to see us and looked at me while I was playing, or when he showed me the thumbs up in the hospital bed and held my hand, I missed what he wanted to say, I missed his last words, cos the nurse asked us to leave.
I felt so bad when I said goodbye instead of we'll be back, it was indeed goodbye, perhaps he thought I was leaving. and calling my grandmother just before I left for the Philippines and not hearing his voice.
His stride, long and purposeful, a smile on his face, his posture upright, his shoes a size with mine, his voice and intellect sharp and clear. His intellect was wise, he was that kindly old man with that sharp wit most hope to imitate and the clownish expression when the occasion called.
to me he was my grandfather, I never expected him to go, I wanted him to see my children and call them by name, I wanted him to see me enter the army and show him that I was indeed grown up, I wanted him to see off to the Philippines and see me when I came back.
I do not regret my time with him,
I knew he was dying 3 years ago, it just never occurred that we could succumb to a mere thing like that.
I once thought before his passing that I shouldnt be too close to him, so I wouldnt feel anything when he's gone.
I dismissed all of that, I saw the happiness and even with no long-term benefits, Im eternally grateful to have such a grandfather and to know someone with so much wisdom.
The funeral, how can anyone not see what my grandfather was?
The coffin was small, I found it odd, I expected a huge coffin, the makeup made him look weak, I hated that, his hands looked deflated, even after the cremation they crushed his bones, which i found impossible. How can one crush the bones of someone so mighty and wise?
I expected more respect.
Logic, gets clouded, upon death.
How can one so wise and mighty possibly succumb to death?
Thats impossible, but the thing scariest is that when he was lying there, I could imagine my father.