I actually didn't want to blog about this, I'm not really a fan of being on the spotlight. But I needed some type of release.
My brother woke me up yesterday at around 530AM and told me the bad news. Our grandmother has passed away. I surprised myself by not crying on the spot, maybe because I mentally prepared myself for this, or maybe I'm just still groggy. My grandma has been in the hospital for weeks, almost a month. It was only recently that she was allowed to go home, though she was still in a coma. When we visited a few weeks back, I overheard my aunts talking. They asked the doctor what were her chances of waking up/surviving. The doctor said, if my lola were in the 60s, they could tell, but seeing that my lola is already 84, they didn't have a definite answer. Or rather, they didn't have a positive answer for us. I had to walk out of the room right then and there. I walked to the end of the hall and cried. I know that everyone will die sooner or later, it's just that all my life, my lola has been there, it seemed forever that she will be there, always. Of course it's stupid to think that, childish, you might say.
If this is hard for me, it's probably harder of her children, my mother included. My aunt, grandma's eldest child, who came home from the US three weeks ago, was supposed to go back yesterday. It's probably better that grandma left us before she had to leave for the airport so she doesn't have to come back.
It's sad, because most of our relatives are out of the country. This is probably the most incomplete we've been.
Thursday's the burial. I'll be taking a leave from work. It'll be time to part ways, physically. I know she's with us everywhere we go, together with our grandfather. We now have two guardian angels.
Bye Lola. We love you.