My grandmother passed away last Thursday night (malam Jumaat).
It was a good month and a good day to go.
I was not really close to her, unlike my other cousins. This is the result of complicated family history. But the bond grew as I became older and more mature.
Every so often, I get flashbacks of my memories of her.
*During the night before the eve of my wedding, when she applied henna on my fingers and toes. Her hands were shaky and the henna was not applied neatly and I only then realised how old she was.
*On the morning of my wedding day, when my grandma and her sister were the first to get down to the void deck where the wedding reception was held (at that time, I was sitting at the void deck in my track pants, reading the newspaper and eyeing the box of ice-cream that had just been delivered). She was dressed to the nines, complete with jewellery and smelling divine. She looked good. This is my most vivid memory of her.
*When my husband and I visited her a few months back, and sent her to the clinic to collect her prescription for high blood pressure and heart problems. She was so emotional when we said goodbye that night, she hugged and kissed me and cried.
* The times she inquired, "Dah ada?" (i.e. Are you pregnant?) And each time I told her no. When I finally did become pregnant, I did not get the opportunity to tell her myself, I suppose because she was already quite sick. And now I am four months along, and she is gone. My heart keeps squeezing everytime I am reminded that she won't be able to see this great grandchild.
*When I first saw her critically ill. Her face was so gaunt and she looked far far different from her normal self, and even from the last time I saw her which was a week prior to that. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open and dry. She looked like she had difficulty breathing, she was unable to eat or speak. I could not control myself. The difference was so stark, the deterioration in her condition so quick. The tears just streamed out.
I am an emotional nutcase right now.
