It wasn’t really unanticipated, but we didn’t think it would be this fast. At least I didn’t think it would be this fast. My grandma left us, for a better place, I hope. She was 93 years old, or maybe even older, as she was only issued with an identification document long after independence and no one could remember when she was born.

I was in a meeting room when my dad called me to inform me about it. I left my phone on charge at my desk and missed the calls. I only knew when I went on a break and sorta checked my phone.

I’m not down with no feelings. These words are cold and flat and insufficient to describe what I’m feeling now. All the memories that I had with my grandma, coming back to me. A flash back of everything. How she held my hand numerous times when it was time for me to go to school. How she helped me tie my shoe laces. How she took care of me. How she would cackle on some of my jokes. How I would chat with her like almost shouting in her ears when she lost hearing on one of her ears and not everyone would have the patience to talk to her. How she would “include” some “foreign objects” into the meals she prepared for me.

I just can’t stop crying. I’ve always been a cry baby since young. I just have no control on the tears. I just hope I won’t have my grandma listening to my cryings.

Last I visited her few days ago, she was bed-ridden already, facing difficulties even to sit, and was down to bone-like thin. She couldn’t eat, at all. Everyday was like just milk or water. She also suffered from osteopoirosis. She couldn’t travel far at all. I wanted her to know, that where I stand now, is where I wanted her to see where I am, but it’s just too late. Too late for anything. I knew she always loved me more than my sister. I just hope… she knows that I love her too…