I guess I've been feeling pretty reflective the last couple days. Brian got back home on Sunday night and then yesterday morning his grandpa had a heart attack and it seems he won't last much longer. It seems like a lot to deal with for Brian but he's taking it really well. I think it's harder for me than for him. Since I heard about it, I feel like I keep reliving my grandpa's death, reliving the loss I've felt when people in my family have died. I've been thinking a lot about my grandpas and my great grandma. I miss them.
It's strange because on sunday afternoon, before all this happened, I went to go visit my great aunty who was in town visiting Jean and we went for a walk. During the walk, she started singing this japanese children's song "otete tsunaide . . ." Then she said that the last time my great grandma was in the hospital, my great aunt was wheeling her around in a wheelchair and my great grandma was singing that song. Imagine that, a 97-year old woman singing a japanese children's song :). My great aunt said that she knew that she was going to go soon, and she knew she would remember that moment; wheeling her around and hearing her sing that song as she sat in the wheelchair. The last time I saw her before she died was 4 months earlier at New Year's and I got to spend a couple hours just with her. I wish I could do it again. My mom's sister went to visit her about a month before she died and she decided for some reason that it would be a good idea for her to call all of the great grandkids and have us get to talk to our great grandma. I never really talked to my great grandma on the phone because I didn't know enough japanese to converse and she didn't know enough english either. When we were in the same place though, It didn't seem to matter, we could communicate just fine with our expressions (mostly smiles and laughter). It was weird saying hi to her on the phone and having her guess who I was. I didn't know then that it would be the last time I'd ever talk to her.
My grandpa's death was even harder. He had pancreatic cancer. He was diagnosed one thanksgiving. We spent thanksgiving night that year in the hopsital dining hall. He seemed to be fighting it alright after that until a year later when he had a stroke, a couple days before thanksgiving again. It was all downhill from there. He ended up dying on December 23rd, 2 days before Christmas. When we knew there was no hope left to treat him, my grandma decided to put him in a hospice and stop feeding him so that he could just die quicker, without as much pain. Even then, he lasted 2 weeks. We went in to see him every day, and every day he got weaker and weaker. In the beginning, he could let you know he knew you were there. He'd squeeze your hand and you could see tears running down his face when you talked to him. By the end, he couldn't do anything. But I feel like I knew he still knew we were there. He held on till the end. I think he was afraid to leave us, he was afraid that we wouldn't be okay without him. I remember my grandma telling him that she was ready to let him go, that he should just go. Then he went.
I don't know where they are now. I don't know if I will ever see them again. I trust in the God I love though. I choose to trust. Please help me to trust.