Remembering Grandma

You know how people say that time heals all wounds. Well, they lied. The wounds, they never really heal, they get easier to live with, but they're there and sometimes, they decide to split wide open again out of the blue. Tonight is one of those wound-splitting nights for me. 

I lost my grandmother a while ago. Up till then, I had never lost someone to death before. If you've ever lost somebody, you'd understand that that kind of pain you feel is beyond anything that words can describe.

I miss her. 

Everytime I walk by her room, I think about how I'll never be able to see her watching her Malay shows or taking an afternoon nap, or how she'll see me walking by and ask if I've eaten or if I'm going out. 

Everytime there's a family gathering, I think about how she'd sit on the sofa in the corner and watch us. I miss her asking, "where's ah jay?" every time I showed up without Jason. 

I miss her till it hurts. 

I think people often underestimate the grandchild-grandparent relationship. It's a strong one. Unlike the parent-child relationship, which is more often than not, a love-hate one, the grandchild-grandparent relationship is nothing but love. I don't remember a time in my 27 years that I've been angry at my grandmother. It's hard to be angry at someone so perfect. 

She was a great grandmother. I've always had a thing about stepping on wet toilet floors. I've hated it since I was a child. My grandma had to carry me to the toilet bowl everytime I need to go potty. As she got older and as I got bigger, that became increasingly difficult so everytime I went over to her house, she'd mop the toilet dry. That's just one of the many great acts of love (there are too many to list) but I think it's my favorite one. 

Hi grandma, if God is reading this to you, please know that I miss you so so much. I love you.