Earlier this month, I lost my grandma. The one that I like. The one that I spent part of my childhood with. The one with beautiful smile and silky hair.
The whole family knew since April, she didn't have much time left. She was very ill, despite not showing any sign of being severely ill. She was even traveling to Denpasar when we found out about the disease. I was in shock, as everybody was. I immediately flown home and stayed for almost a month cause she's having a big operation to fix her heart. It felt weird hearing such news at first. I though her heart was the one thing that didn't need fixing, it's a gold. It's all started to sink in when I saw her sitting weakly at the hospital bed, several tubes held her body like a rag doll. She was that sick. And I couldn't stand that scene.
I squeezed the most out of my time home. I knew I couldn't stay by her side forever. At some point I had to fly back to Bandung. I didn't have much time. And when you're pinched that hard, you gave almost everything-in your disposable-you could to make memories, to make her happier even for a slightest bit, because sometimes in a near future, you could only stare at her picture and miss her in silence. And I have my own limit, but she knows when enough is good enough. She made it so hard to let her go anytime soon, simply because I would like to be in her grace longer. But if she decided it's time, I would, with all my heart, accompany her to the very last breath, or even after, 'till she's done saying good bye to everyone and decended to heaven. I hope she knows that if she's happy, that's rippling back at me.
Grieving is nothing new for me. But loosing her is as new as the breaking of dawn. I probably need sometime until I'm used of not seeing her whenever I come home. But there's her cardigan in her room, with her scent still lingering, there's memories living within me, with her smiling in joy. It's okay. I can manage.
