It’s been 2 weeks since my grandmother passed away, and I’m still stuck in that stage of denial. I’m far away from home, so I guess that makes it easier. I can pretend that she’s still alive, I can pretend that I will still see her smiling face when I get back home a few months from now… but every time I find myself alone, I am quickly overcome by the harshness of reality… That I’d never get to see her again. I always remember how I spent those last few minutes of her life with her… how she looked, how her voice sounded, how her skin felt… and I just couldn’t keep myself from breaking down. She has done so much for me and for a lot of people… she didn’t deserve to go that way.
I doubt if I could ever forget. I doubt if anything could make this pain go away. How can I ever forget when many things around me tend to remind me of her? How could I ever forget when everything that I am now, I owe to her? I owe her so much that every time I look at myself in the mirror, I am reminded of her? And every time I look at myself, I can only imagine how disappointed she was of what I have become. That feeling of guilt only makes it harder. If only I have done something of worth, If only I have become that person that she could truly be proud of, it would have been easier. She would have left this world with a great sense of fulfillment. I could try to convince myself otherwise, I could keep on telling myself that i have become that person that anyone would be proud of... but every time I look into my eyes as I’m staring at my own reflection, I know that I would only be trying to fool myself.
When I first saw her when my parents brought her home from the hospital, I knew that she wasn’t well. I was right. She wasn’t supposed to be home yet, she went home against medical advice. As I sat beside her during her last few days, I was always filled with dread. Something wasn’t right. It felt as if something was about to break. I couldn’t carry any decent conversation with her. She failed to laugh as I told jokes, she failed to give any sensible answers to questions I would ask… I didn’t even see her smile anymore. It was as if the simple act of talking caused her a great deal of burden. I couldn’t stand seeing her that way, that was why I kept crying. Whereas before she would show immediate concern each time she felt that I was lonely or if something was bothering me… during those days she remained still and silent, with both of her eyes closed. As if she didn’t care about my feelings anymore… as if she didn’t care about the world anymore. I was practically begging her to go back to the hospital, but she would simply say NO. If I asked her why she didn’t want to go back, she would just say that she hated being at the hospital. When she said she’d rather die than to go back there, that’s when I finally shut up.
I spent that whole Saturday with her. She was just sitting still, desperately trying to sleep, while I was studying beside her. I knew that she wasn’t well, and that she probably wouldn’t make it until the end of the year… but I never thought that she would be gone the next day. It was inevitable, yet it happened so soon. I just wasn't ready. It’s been years since I’ve spent that much time with her. For the past few years we rarely talked. Our daily encounters were mostly confined to those times wherein I gave her meds and checked her blood pressure. It has been years since we’ve talked, and when I finally found the time to talk, it seemed that see was no longer able to. But as I sat beside her on that warm afternoon, even though we were not talking, everything seemed to be all right. In that certain moment in time, everything seemed right with the world. For some unexplainable reason that i could not fully grasp, that afternoon was close to perfection.
During that night, we began her routine of trying to lie down in bed, and then wanting to sit up again after only a few seconds. I would tell her that it’s no use since she cannot tolerate lying flat on the bed, but she would still insist so we would just oblige. After a few minutes of sitting down, she would ask us to help her lie down again, and this cycle went on and on even though she knew that there’s no way she could sleep on her bed. Normally I would have already lost my temper, but on that night, i remained calm. I was unusually calm. We did this all night, and when the sun had risen on Sunday, I knew that she was already too tired. She hadn’t slept for two whole days, and this had caused her even more fatigue. When her private nurse came, I tried to get some sleep. I lied down on my bed for almost three hours, but it was no use. I had lunch at around eleven that morning, and then sat beside her again afterward. When I opened the door to her room, I saw that she was becoming worse. When I sat beside her, I told her i would already be leaving in a few days. She asked me if I already booked my flight. I said yes. I then tried to persuade her to go back to the hospital again, but she still remained firm with her decision. I knew that I had to bring her to the hospital that day because her condition was worsening. I said everything that I could to try and convince her, and miraculously, she finally agreed. She picked up the phone and called my dad. She told him that she wants to go back to the hospital. My dad said he was on his way. I touched her skin and I noticed how dry it was, how rough it was. I held her hand, and noticed how weak her grip was. I ran my fingers through her hair as i hear her raspy breathing, and I told her I'll be back in a minute. I went back to my room to change my clothes. I wasn’t even gone for five minutes. When I went back to her room I saw her slumped on her chair and her nurse was panicking. I quickly rushed towards her and checked on her pulse. I felt nothing, and she was also no longer breathing.
I panicked. i did not know what to do at first. It was as if I've encountered a person who has suffered from cardiorespiratory arrest for the very first time. I tried to carry her on my own but I just couldn’t do it. My brother left a few minutes earlier along with my aunt, and my parents weren’t there yet. The only other person in the house was our maid, and I called for her. Together with the nurse, I tried to carry her, and they were barely helping at all. Both were small women, and they weren’t used to carrying such weight. We transferred her to her wheelchair, but it just couldn’t fit through the door, so we tried to carry her again. She was too heavy, and I was already screaming out of frustration and desperation. We managed to carry her outside but by that time our arms gave in. She fell on the ground, her dressed soiled as she lay on the ground of our garden. I started to cry. She has done so much good, she didn’t deserve to go this way, soiled and dirty on the ground, lying lifeless on the grass and weeds. I just couldn’t allow that to happen to her. That just felt so wrong. We managed to carry her again before we lost our grip and she fell again in our garage just as I was about to open the door to my car. By the time I turned the engine on, I tried to estimate the time that had lapsed. It took us such a long time, 10 minutes had probably already passed. And although I knew that it was probably already too late and that any resuscitative measures will be of no use, I still pressed on. I drove her to the nearest hospital. It wasn’t the best hospital, but in that situation, it was the best possible choice.
It took a very long time before the emergency room physician managed to intubate her. After ten more minutes, I knew that she was already gone. Even if they managed to revive her, she would have been brain dead already. That’s when I finally broke down. I felt as if my whole world collapsed. I’ve seen many patients who have suffered from cardiorespiratory arrest before, and I know the routine inside out… but it seemed so different when the person they are trying to revive is someone you know… someone you love. I just couldn’t watch them as they did all those things to her… as if she was some inanimate object… as if she wasn’t a person at all. After a few more minutes, my parents came, and they brought the dog with them. I wondered if they were really concerned. On the way to the hospital I managed to call my dad saying that grandma was no longer breathing and that I was bringing her to the nearest hospital. Their house wasn’t far away yet it took them such a long time to show up… and they even managed to bring the dog. But I didn’t entertain such thoughts at that time. I was too overwhelmed with grief, that I wasn’t capable of any sort of rational thinking. Apparently my dad called our other relatives, and they started to come in trickles. After 30 minutes of resuscitative measures, the ER doctor told us that it was no use anymore, and he was asking our permission for them to stop. I knew it was no use, but I just couldn’t say yes, I was still hoping for a miracle.
After 40 minutes, her heart started to function again. All our relatives breathed a sigh of relief, smiles started to show on their faces, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth. They thought that everything would be all right. Everyone was feeling such joy, but I only kept on crying. I knew that she was already long gone, and nothing could ever bring her back.
The medications kept her heart beating until a little past 6 on Monday evening. She was admitted at the ICU, and our relatives took turns going inside to check on her. I just stayed outside even as most of our relatives went home. They smiled as they told me that my grandma was turning her head towards them, or that she was opening her eyes as they spoke to her… but I knew that all they saw were simply reflexes. She was no longer capable of understanding or even simply hearing the things they were saying because her brain was no longer functioning. The medications were the only things keeping her alive… and to even use the term “alive” entails a bit of exaggeration. My grandma was no longer there. The person who I’ve cherished the most all these years was no longer inside that room. All that remained was a body… with signs of wear and tear, evidence of all the suffering and hardships that she had to endure all those years… full of wounds sustained from this battle that we call life. It was a body that was on the brink of collapse, and any moment now, it would finally give in.
I just stayed outside until sunrise. I tried to sleep because I was so damn tired, but I just couldn’t. Each time I closed my eyes, I would see her… and every time I would think of what ifs. What if we didn’t allow her to go home despite her demands? I would probably still be checking her blood pressure and giving her medications today. What if my whole family was in the house at that time? What my brother didn’t leave the house to have lunch with his girlfriend? What if my parents actually came early for a change? Maybe we could have brought her to the hospital on time. Maybe I would be sitting beside her on a hospital bed today, and I would be talking to her, and I would be able to see her smile back. Maybe I would see her cry again as I kissed her goodbye when i leave for abroad. But all those things didn’t matter anymore. She was long gone, and nothing could ever bring her back.
Memories started to flicker. I have lived with her all my life. We slept in the same bed until after med school. That was when I told her pointblank that I didn’t want to sleep in the same room with my grandma anymore, because I needed some privacy. She patiently woke me up each morning and she literally had to drag me out of bed during elementary school even though I told her each morning that I didn’t want to go to school simply because I didn’t want to. I was such a spoiled brat and she tolerated it--- because I was her favorite. I knew that, and everyone else knew that. Most people knew her as stringy, yet when it came to me, she gave all that I wanted, she gave in to all my demands, no questions asked. She even had to spoonfeed me breakfast and give me a bath each morning because I was too lazy to do those things on my own. I was an overgrown baby. I’ve said hurtful things simply because I felt that I was shackled. She loved me too much that I felt that she kept on treating me like a child even when I was past the age of 18. I’ve said hurtful things on my quest for independence, because at that time, nothing else mattered to me. When she didn’t give me enough allowance to pay for the rent for my apartment during med school, I told her to stop being so stringy because everyone knew that she had a lot of money. Our dad had made us believe that she had an endless supply of cash, even though she was finding it hard at that time to keep all of us in school. She just underwent a major operation, and her bank account was almost empty, yet she never told anyone except for my grandpa. He even told her to stop paying for our education because it wasn’t her responsibility, it was the responsibility of our jobless father. My grandparents had numerous arguments because of this, yet we were so oblivious to the fact that we were the reason for their arguments. She was fighting for us. And I even had the gall to tell her that she was acting selfish, when all along I was the person who was only thinking of himself.
She calls me everyday whenever I’m away from home. When I’m on a 24 hour shift at the hospital, or when I’m on a vacation somewhere, she would always call. When I’m out of the country and gone for several days or even weeks, she would call everyday. Often I would simply ignore her calls, and if I would answer, at times I wouldn’t even try to hide my annoyance. Once, I even asked her why did she have to call everyday when there’s nothing new happening between us, so we just end up saying the same things over and over again. Often she would cry as I was talking to her, and I would tell her pointblank that she was over reacting. It’s not as if I would never come back. Often, I found all that melodrama exasperating. Many times whenever I found it hard to administer her medications intravenously, I don’t even try to hide my irritation. There’s anger in the tone of my voice, even though I could always tell her how hard it was in a nice way. And all those times she would just look at me calmly, as if asking me to please try and try again. There was that one time that she caught me in a bad mood, and after several attempts I just told her it was impossible and I simply walked out on her. When I came back after a few hours, she acted as if nothing happened. She acted as if she wasn’t hurt at all, which was so typical of her. Every time she found herself on the receiving end of my bouts of negative emotions, she would only give me love in return. For as long as I can remember, from my days as a spoiled brat, to my years as an arrogant young adult, she never chose to castigate me. All got in return for being so ungrateful was her unconditional love. She would tell everyone who would care enough to listen that she was so proud of me, that I was the grandchild who was the kindest, that i was the one who was most responsible, most dependable... the one who was always there for her. Even though I believe that she had to have some doubts regarding those things that she has been saying about me, at least if she's able to see me in the proper perspective--- she never said it out loud. She would choose to consciously overlook my faults, so that only the good things in me remained in her line of sight.
Everyone knew how thrifty she was. She’s as thrifty to the point that it wasn’t practical anymore. She seldom buys new shoes and clothes, and whenever she buys some, she chooses those that are of poorest quality. She only had a few nice clothes, and she kept on wearing them again and again on special occasions. Looking at the worn out shoes that she kept on wearing, you’d mistake that she was a homeless person, if you didn't know her at all. A lot of people wondered what she was saving up for. It’s not like she could bring all her riches in the afterlife, that’s what they say. But somehow, I knew the answer. No matter how much money I ask from her to pay for my expenses, she didn’t ask any questions. After she passed away I found out she left money for me to pay for my future expenses on my upcoming trip later this year. Even now that she’s gone, she’s still looking out for me. She rarely touched her money, not even for her own personal needs. She didn’t use that money to do things that would make her happy. But she once told me that she’s happy as long as she sees me happy, so I guess anything material could not give her that sort of happiness. From the day that I was born, until the very end of her life, she was looking after me because that made her happy. And I never could understand how I can give her that level of happiness, in spite of myself. I don’t know if there’s even a person alive who deserved such love. I just know for a fact that if ever such a person existed, that person couldn’t possibly be me.
When I told her that I’ve made the decision to work abroad, she just agreed. She paid for all those exams, no questions asked. She supported my decision, she even said I was making the right choice… yet I knew that she didn’t want me to go. She wouldn’t want her favorite grandchild to go away. Others have told me that she kept crying when I’ve made this decision, but every time I would talk to her about it, she would keep a straight face. All these years, she never showed me her true feelings when she knew that it would affect me in a negative way. She never showed me how sad I made her feel, how angry I made her feel… she never showed me any signs of loneliness, betrayal, nor disappointment, even though I knew that she was already keeping those emotions deep inside. She had always wanted the best for me, and she loved me unconditionally even though I was so undeserving of all that affection. That kind of love cannot be equated with anything else. That kind of love cannot be bought. Such love is unique. Such love is priceless.
I finally found the courage to see her at around seven in the morning. I thought that I was already in control of myself, but when I saw her, I started crying again. I just couldn’t stand seeing her that way… intubated, hooked up to all those machines, bloated… lifeless. I held her hand, I brushed my fingers through her hair, I touched her face, and I kissed her on the cheek. And although I knew that she wouldn’t be able to hear me, I started talking to her. I started saying the things that I never had the courage to say to her. i started saying the things that I thought I could always say later. I said sorry for all the things I have done. I told her how much I need her. I told her how much I love her. I poured my heart out even though I knew that saying all those things was useless. I never said those things when it still mattered. I never said those things even though I had numerous chances. And now it was already too late. I couldn’t stand seeing her that way anymore, I wanted to remember her the way she was. I was crying so hard as I said goodbye. I kissed her once again, and I touched her face for the very last time. I decided to go home and just wait. I didn’t know how I would react when they would finally tell us that the effects of the medications have worn off, and that she has expired. Before I went out the door, I looked at her again, and tears started to well up immediately. That woman who was lifeless on that bed couldn't possibly be her. I closed the door behind me. That was the last time I saw her alive.
I drove around for a while, going around in circles, going nowhere. I was such a wreck. When I got home I took lots of Valium and after a few tablets, miraculously I was able to sleep. I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. It was my dad. I knew why he was calling. I answered the phone and he told me the news. He told me that I was the only one they were waiting for before they transferred her to the morgue. I told him that I won’t be coming back to the hospital. i already said goodbye to her earlier, and I was just going to stay home. Then I hung up. I took a couple more tablets, and I was able to cry myself to sleep.
The next few days were surreal. Somehow each day passed by, despite the fact that I felt so detached from everything. Every time I find myself alone, I find myself crying. I always find myself coming back to her room, reliving our daily routine, opening her cabinet and touching her clothes, burrowing my face in her pillows, taking comfort in her scent, looking at all those pictures in those photo albums that she treasured more than anything else. I would always find myself sitting on her chair, lying on her bed, crying as I’m staring into nothing. I was stuck in that stage of denial. I kept telling myself it was all just a bad dream and it couldn’t possibly be real. I kept hoping that someone would wake me up. I just couldn’t continue moving forward without her.
Then came the regrets. We have become too complacent. Every time she got admitted at the hospital, no matter how bad her condition was prior to admission, everything was always back to the way it was by the time she got discharged. We got so used to all the times that we had to push her wheelchair, that we had to give her medications and administer oxygen, that we had bring her to the hospital... it has all become routine, and we barely noticed that her condition was indeed worsening. By the time we had that sense of urgency, it was already too late. I didn’t want to spend last Christmas at home simply because I needed a change. I was so sick and tired of our family traditions. Spending the holidays with the whole family was important to her, but I needed a change and that was more important to me. If I only knew that I would never get to experience our yearly holiday traditions again, if I only knew I would never get to spend Christmas with her again, I would have chosen to stay home and made the most out of it. If I only knew that she only had a few months left to live when I came home last February, I would've spend more time with her. I would have spent most of my days just sitting beside here. Doing anything. Doing nothing. If only I knew that the first few days of June were the last days of her life, I would have chosen to spend more time with her. I would have stayed at the hospital longer, I would have talked to her more, because I know that the simple act of talking to her keeps her loneliness away. Just having someone beside her gave her comfort. Having a loved one by her side at all times made her happy. If I only knew that the Saturday afternoon we’ve spent together would’ve been our last afternoon together, I would’ve said a whole lot more, instead of the usual things that I say to her. I would have told her how grateful I was, I would have said thanks for everything that she has ever done for me. I would have asked for forgiveness and understanding. i would have said sorry for all the wrongs that i have done, and i would have said sorry for not doing enough. I would have told her for the very first time how much I loved her. I would have told her that I loved her so much, and that she means more than anything in the world to me. Saying all those words to her would have made her so happy… now I’ll never get another chance to tell her the things that I should’ve told her a long time ago.
Talks regarding financial concerns simply pissed me off. She wasn’t even buried yet and my father was concerned about our future expenses. About taxes that we had to pay. About the family’s future sources of income. About what little money she had left. He was expecting so much more, and with her numerous hospitalizations, what was left of her savings was only enough to give her the funeral she wanted. He wanted to cut costs, but he had no control over her money. I did. It was her money, she worked hard for it. No one should reap the benefits of her hard work but her. She never used her money for herself unless she really needed to. It was about time someone used her money for her. I almost emptied her savings account. I wanted to give her the funeral that she wanted. She deserved nothing but the best. If only she was still capable of appreciating it all, if only she could still see the things we have done to honor her memory, then it would be a little more comforting.
I knew that I love her so much. But I didn’t know up to what extent I was willing to go just to show my love to her. When someone had the gall to disrupt her funeral procession and show utter disrespect, I beat up that guy badly. I saw red, and I was capable of murder. If my cousins didn’t stop me, I would have killed him. I didn’t care about consequences, all I knew at that time that she did not deserve such treatment. Anyone who dared disrespect her had to pay the price, even with his own life. For a while the loneliness had subsided. It was overcome with rage. All that I felt was anger.
When I boarded the plane last Tuesday, I thought I already had my emotions under control. But by the time the plane landed, I remembered how I would always call her immediately as soon as I’ve landed. Just to tell her I’m safe, and for me to know how she was feeling. And the tears started to flow again, I just couldn’t hold them back. And even though I’m so far away, a lot of little things that I do, a lot of little things that I see all around me still remind me of her, and that just aggravates the loneliness that I am feeling. Everyday, I still feel that I am simply watching the world from a different plane. I feel like an outsider, simply looking in. I still feel as if I am dreaming. Everyday, I’m still hoping, that the past 2 weeks is all an illusion. And when I wake up tomorrow, somehow, everything will be back to the way things were.
What makes it harder to let go is the knowledge that she didn’t want to leave yet. There were so many things that she still wanted to do, there were so many things that she still wanted to witness. During our talks for the past few months, she knew that she didn’t have long to live. She was in and out of the hospital for the past three years, and I knew that she was aware of her current state of health. she told me that she wanted to live to see the day when my two cousins would finish college, because apparently, she was also paying for their education. When we talked about my plans for the year, she told me that she wanted to see the day that I would become a very successful doctor. When I became a doctor she felt such immeasurable pride and happiness. And when I become successful, she told me that it would only make her happier because she would live to see the day that I am already able to stand on my own. Two weeks ago, we were talking about plans for her 80th birthday this coming October. She wanted a huge celebration because it was her 80th. I told her to go for it since I knew it would make her very happy, and she’d be using her hard earned money anyway. It was about time that she used that money for herself. We already contacted an event planner, we already chose a venue, and she already contacted someone to design her dress. That was the last time I saw her smile. She was looking forward to a lot of things. She wanted to hold on. A few minutes before I found her in a state of cardiac arrest, I was able to convince her to go back to the hospital. I gave her a lot of reasons to go back, and I thought that nothing I could say would convince her otherwise. Then I told her that I would be leaving for two months, and if she stayed at our house in her present condition, she might already be gone by the time I got back. And I don’t know how I would be able to live without her in my life. i just wouldn't be able to bear it.
A few seconds after I said that, she finally agreed. She told me she wanted to go back to the hospital.
Up until the very last moments of her life, it was still all about me.
She never got the chance to tell me that she was leaving, and I know for a fact that she wouldn’t want to leave that way… unceremoniously and haphazardly… without warning and without proper closure.
My grandma never got the chance to say goodbye. That’s why I find it so hard to say goodbye to her as well.
