So, this morning, my dad woke us up, accidentally, and told us that my waigong (maternal grandfather) just passed. I was in such a shock, I don't think it has quite sunk in yet. I just saw him yesterday and he was breathing and talking and eating. He was frail, but he was, in a sense, normal. My dad said he died of old age, which was the best way to go because it was peaceful. I guess I can take comfort in that.
I am supposed to fly today for a choir competition, which means I would miss the coming days of the wake. I did tell my parents I could deviate from the group and fly 2 days later but my dad does not feel safe with me travelling on my own. I guess I'm leaving tonight.
I guess I can also find comfort that I managed to see him for the last time when he was still alive. I really need to thank my mum for pushing me to visit him yesterday. I think I also have to thank God for planning things this way. I get to see him one last time when he still breathe and one more time when he has passed before my flight.
I still recall that as I looked at him ytd, I was remembering how he used to be so much fitter. Both my grandpas could never stay too still. They were always up and about; all over the country. Now, he was bedridden and wayyyyy thinner. I used to hug him and gave air kisses when we were younger. Yesterday, I was too afraid I might hurt him.
Dear Waigong, I wish you all the best in the afterlife. I love you.
Death Be With You
You with the lovely eyes,
why don't you open them and see?
Open them and watch the world.
Look at my face. You created me
and then molded my person.
Hold my hand, Papa!
Look at me. Look at your son
that longs your smile.
Why are you colder than ever?
Do you need a blanket? I'll grab one for you.
Speak to me. Where are the words
of the lips that taught me two plus two?
Breathe in the air, Papa,
It's easy, like this.
Please breathe, Papa.
Here, have true love's kiss.
Tell me you're not gone, dear father.
Tell me you've just gone to bed.
Tell me you'll sit up at anytime.
Tell me, Papa. Tell me you're not only dead.
Sing me tunes of robins and larks,
Paint me pictures of sky and soil,
Teach me lessons of strength and life.
Fill me with kisses of sadness and joy.
I think I understand how this works;
what happens when one dies.
The Son calls out and you must go
but why won't you come when this son cries?
I look around and I do see,
pieces of you surrounding me.
You're not only dead, my kind daddy;
you burn in the hearts of everybody.
