Death As A Relief

I never liked the look, feel, and smell of a hospital, maybe because my first time in one wasn't a good experience at all. It was 3 o'clock in the morning, I am supposed to visit my ailing grandmother who gave me a surprise gift a day before she had her third and last heart attack. Although she tried to hold on to her life for nearly a month while in coma by responding to medicines and various electronic apparatus beside her, she wasn't aware that her efforts proved to be in vain. The doctor told us, just three days after grandma was admitted in one of Makati's premiere hospitals, that our dear grandma's case was hopeless.

After hearing what the doctor had to say, I decided to go home, without even seeing my grandmother on her death bed. My aunt insisted that I stay, and talk to the patient. This was after the doctor also said that even if grandma won't be able to move any part of her body, she can still hear us, and knowing her, she will listen.

I said no.

Against the wishes of my relatives, I left the hospital and went back home. I figured out that if I tried to talk to a dying loved one, I will just beg her to fight and fight harder, ask her to never leave me, which is unfair. She can't. At home, inside my room, I did so many things at the same time that I couldn't find the right term for it. I cried, prayed, thanked God and grandma, wished for a lot of things, made promises, and asked for forgiveness. When it was over, I smiled because I experienced a blessing which lasted for 15 years of my life, being a part of the life of a great person -- my grandma.

It was the first and last time I let teardrops fell for my grandma. I knew she never wanted to see me cry again and again. I miss you, lola. Happy new year to us, here on Earth, and there in heaven.