I am right now, very afraid of death. I have never had to look at a dying person before, or hold their hands, or feel life ebb out of their body. I go to the hospital every morning, with both fear and hope in my heart - fear that I may be alone with my grandma in her last hours on earth and hope that she'd still be alive for however long she chooses to. My grandma has lived up to a ripe old age; she has had her shares of joys and sorrows in life; she has such a fantastic bond with my mother, with whom she lived for the past 20 years of her life, she has been well taken care of by my mother and right now surrounded by people who love and support her.
November 12 was a defining moment for me with my grandma. That was the first time, I saw that she was able to look at me in my eyes; I felt in my gut that she knew it was her time, she recognized me for the last time and called me by my name, nodded her head when I sang to a devotional song to her, blinked her eyes, as though in affirmation, when I chanted a few verses of the scripture in her ears. Now, I feel that all I have about my grandma are only memories. I can vividly remember her crying and saying good bye to me in April, standing next to her and watching her eat her lunch at my brother's wedding because she was unable to walk down to the dining hall, her joyous grin when we welcomed my sister-in-law into the family, her sad, incoherent response about how she feels about her kids who have abandoned her, her habit of standing out in the patio, waving good bye, her fear of needles, her love for my mom and dad. Now, I am afraid of saying good bye to her, which means that I really only have these memories and nothing else. That is why I still am afraid of death. I know I will get to a point where this fear of death will actually make everything else precious for me; not just yet.
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