And to think I thought 88 was my lucky number.
My grandma turned 88 last December and it just never dawned on me how old she had gotten 'til my aunt pointed out to me that we should take my grandma out more often because the time will come sooner or later when we won't be able to go malling anymore with her. Call me naive, but I thought I'd be taking hmy grandma out on on movie dates forever. Our little dates that have become few and far in between (much to my regret and everbusy schedule).
My aunt had arrived from the states last week of November for a long vacation and she's been focused on making sure my grandma eats more and talks more. My grandma, who loves to go window shopping, gets to go out more frequently now. But last weekend she started feeling ill. Until then, I never noticed how bony and shrunken she had become. My grandma, who takes forever to get ready to go out because she loves to put on makeup and look real pretty and fashionable all the time (She always tells me I dress too conservatively for my age!). The same grandma who outlasts me when it comes to walking around the mall because my feet give up after an hour or two. This is the same grandma who has always beaten me in Scrabble even with her eyes closed.
It all started Sunday when we had my nephew's baptism in the afternoon and so we had to bring her back to my uncle's house. She was so weak that for the first time, I had to carry her from the car to her room. It felt weird considering one of my earliest memories of childhood was when my mom left me with her during the day and I played with our dachsund Dingdong while she did her gardening. Now, I was the one carrying her like she was the child. And she was so scared too. So fragile. I told her to put her arms around my neck, but she refused and was kicking her legs in the air all the way into the house because she thought we were going to drop her. My grandma is half-blind with glaucoma and I can guess just how scary things may look to her when her visibility is bad and she's feeling sick.
But today, I just found out she's been admitted to the ICU with a blood clot in her brain the size of something scary. How scary? That, I am not sure yet. But the doctor says that when it comes to blood clots, even a hairline size one would be cause for worry, what more if it was bigger?
To be honest, I have never ever experienced coming close to losing anyone in my immediate family, so this is all new to me. Hopefully, she will get better in the days to come because I hope for nothing more than that. I am not scared of the inevitable, but it is a sad, sad thing nonetheless. I hope it isn't her time yet. I hate surprises. And Death, though I am not afraid of it, is a foreign concept to me until now.
I think this is also the same reason why I never attend wakes. Not to disrespect the dead, but because I just dont know how I should conduct myself in those places. I'd be feeling as out of place as ever. So I'd rather pray for them from afar.