Death is only the beginning
Dear Grandpa,
Last night was probably the last time I will ever see you again. Jason and I drove to your hospital at 12:30 to join the rest of the family by your side. Your wife, Xiao Yi, welcomed me with the same gratitude and warmth she always does. I really love that woman, Grandpa. You did well when you married her.
Mom was quiet but smiling. She talked to Xiao Yi about Jesus and gave her hope for the future. Jen was tired; when I arrived, she couldn't remember what cup of coffee she was on. Dad was crying. I don't know what growing up under your household was like, but it couldn't have been so terrible because Dad never cries.
Mom and Dad told me not to come because anyone with a cold is not allowed in the Intensive Care Unit, but I hid my symptoms so I could come see you. We're family, after all. I didn't want you to open your eyes without me being there. I didn't want you to think I didn't care. I'll get over the cold.
I wish we would have been closer. I wish that I could recollect more than one conversation we've had, but the truth is, I think the only time we ever exchanged more than a sentence was in high school when I interviewed you about your war experiences for a paper. I remember being surprised at how involved you were. I remember feeling proud. I wish we could have talked more.
I was mad at you for a long time, Grandpa. I was mad at you for divorcing Grandma for horrible reasons, for hurting your family, for hurting Grandma. Every time I saw Grandma in her small apartment, so alone, biding away time on soap operas and her bird, I got angry with you. Every time she cried, I blamed you.
I was mad at you for messing up my Dad, too...for passing down your stubborness and your stoicism...for your dedication to facts and your neglect of faith. I blamed you every time my Dad didn't know how to love me, which was most of my life.
I'm not mad at you anymore, Grandpa. I release both of us from that anger. I just want you to know that we're going to miss you. It won't be the same. I've grown up my entire life with you around...always in the background, slurping dumplings and playing Mahjong with Xiao Yi, Mom, and Dad. Now that we'll be missing a player, Mom and Dad probably won't be playing for a while.
You probably know this, but it was Dad who made the decision to make you comfortable and let you go instead of using aggressive tactics to save you. We figured that's what you wanted since you kept pushing away the oxygen and ventilation tube.
It was hard seeing you so thin and frail, Grandpa. I saw the crook of your arm, purple and bruised from all the IV's, and I had to turn away. I've always figured you would be as strong as your stubbornness and mystery. Jen said that she didn't know that you wore dentures and didn't have any teeth. I didn't know that either.
I'm sorry you and Xiao Yi didn't get to move to Houston. You were SO close. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. But you know, this way we all get to be together one last time.
I wonder what you were thinking while you laid there, fighting for your breath but not for your life. I think we were all wondering the same thing. What does one think about when you're breathing your last breath, surrounded by your tearful family? Does your whole life flash in front of you like a movie? Or do you simply drift away as you acquiese your fate?
You made it to 94, Grandpa. 94. Not everyone can say that. I wish you could have stuck it out for 6 more years. Then you would have made the papers: "Century-old Chinese Man Still Going Strong!" Then maybe I could also have given you a great grandbaby. But at least Anna gave you great grandtwins. 94. That's still a great accomplishment.
Jason and I left at 5:00am. I'm so sorry that we left, but we stayed as long as we could. It's hard to get comfortable in a hospital when you're drowning in Nyquil and snot, but that seems like a pathetic excuse. Don't be sad or mad at me, okay? I'm carrying you in my heart for always.
No one has called me since we left, so I don't know how you're doing or if you're still here with us on earth. You were my first real emergency hospital visit and you'll be my first funeral. I wish it wasn't so, but you'll be alive in our family for a long time to come.
I love you, Grandpa. Sleep peacefully.
Your loving grand-daughter,
Ting Ting
Last night was probably the last time I will ever see you again. Jason and I drove to your hospital at 12:30 to join the rest of the family by your side. Your wife, Xiao Yi, welcomed me with the same gratitude and warmth she always does. I really love that woman, Grandpa. You did well when you married her.
Mom was quiet but smiling. She talked to Xiao Yi about Jesus and gave her hope for the future. Jen was tired; when I arrived, she couldn't remember what cup of coffee she was on. Dad was crying. I don't know what growing up under your household was like, but it couldn't have been so terrible because Dad never cries.
Mom and Dad told me not to come because anyone with a cold is not allowed in the Intensive Care Unit, but I hid my symptoms so I could come see you. We're family, after all. I didn't want you to open your eyes without me being there. I didn't want you to think I didn't care. I'll get over the cold.
I wish we would have been closer. I wish that I could recollect more than one conversation we've had, but the truth is, I think the only time we ever exchanged more than a sentence was in high school when I interviewed you about your war experiences for a paper. I remember being surprised at how involved you were. I remember feeling proud. I wish we could have talked more.
I was mad at you for a long time, Grandpa. I was mad at you for divorcing Grandma for horrible reasons, for hurting your family, for hurting Grandma. Every time I saw Grandma in her small apartment, so alone, biding away time on soap operas and her bird, I got angry with you. Every time she cried, I blamed you.
I was mad at you for messing up my Dad, too...for passing down your stubborness and your stoicism...for your dedication to facts and your neglect of faith. I blamed you every time my Dad didn't know how to love me, which was most of my life.
I'm not mad at you anymore, Grandpa. I release both of us from that anger. I just want you to know that we're going to miss you. It won't be the same. I've grown up my entire life with you around...always in the background, slurping dumplings and playing Mahjong with Xiao Yi, Mom, and Dad. Now that we'll be missing a player, Mom and Dad probably won't be playing for a while.
You probably know this, but it was Dad who made the decision to make you comfortable and let you go instead of using aggressive tactics to save you. We figured that's what you wanted since you kept pushing away the oxygen and ventilation tube.
It was hard seeing you so thin and frail, Grandpa. I saw the crook of your arm, purple and bruised from all the IV's, and I had to turn away. I've always figured you would be as strong as your stubbornness and mystery. Jen said that she didn't know that you wore dentures and didn't have any teeth. I didn't know that either.
I'm sorry you and Xiao Yi didn't get to move to Houston. You were SO close. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. But you know, this way we all get to be together one last time.
I wonder what you were thinking while you laid there, fighting for your breath but not for your life. I think we were all wondering the same thing. What does one think about when you're breathing your last breath, surrounded by your tearful family? Does your whole life flash in front of you like a movie? Or do you simply drift away as you acquiese your fate?
You made it to 94, Grandpa. 94. Not everyone can say that. I wish you could have stuck it out for 6 more years. Then you would have made the papers: "Century-old Chinese Man Still Going Strong!" Then maybe I could also have given you a great grandbaby. But at least Anna gave you great grandtwins. 94. That's still a great accomplishment.
Jason and I left at 5:00am. I'm so sorry that we left, but we stayed as long as we could. It's hard to get comfortable in a hospital when you're drowning in Nyquil and snot, but that seems like a pathetic excuse. Don't be sad or mad at me, okay? I'm carrying you in my heart for always.
No one has called me since we left, so I don't know how you're doing or if you're still here with us on earth. You were my first real emergency hospital visit and you'll be my first funeral. I wish it wasn't so, but you'll be alive in our family for a long time to come.
I love you, Grandpa. Sleep peacefully.
Your loving grand-daughter,
Ting Ting
posted by The mini ninja at 12:50 PM
1 Comments:
:-( I'll be thinking of you, and your family. :-(
Gab At Les
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