A little more personal and real part of me this time.

In a way, death has always been a really touchy issue for me, especially since my grandpa's death. Growing up, my family had this routine of going to my grandparents' house every single week. I guess somewhere along the line, I have to admit that I took this "routine" for granted. As I grew older and went into a "rebellious stage", I spent more time out of house and eventually spent more of my Sundays out studying rather than going to my grandparents' house. And these, are moments I will never be able to get back.

When my grandpa first fell sick, maybe I was a little too naive then, but I always believed and thought that he would get well soon - eventually at least. Things got worse as time went by, even as he got discharged from the hospital. While I still see him at my grandparents' house then, things weren't really the same anymore. Gradually, as time past, things got real when he passed on one day - just on the night of my O levels Chinese examinations. At that moment in time, I was just really overwhelmed by shock, and then grief. And probably regret.

That's when the changes started.

Things became completely different then. I started to draw myself away from my family and friends, and remained quiet even when I hung out with them. In a way, I felt as if by doing that I would be relieving memories of my grandpa. Grandpa, he was a man full of strength, but extremely quiet. He'd laughed when someone said something funny but was always firm with us. Firm, yet caring. He may appear to be cold, but I knew that he paid attention to his surroundings a lot. And I knew he cared for every single one of us, so, so much. Just like how he cares for his community. I will always remember seeing him, (as I head to his house), collecting leaves along the road around his neighbourhood just to "tidy up". It wasn't his job whatsoever, but he was playing an active role as a resident there. By keeping myself quiet, I felt like I was putting myself in his shoes, just observing and paying close attention to my surroundings. But my grief and silence was what eventually kept people away. For a long while, I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice what was going on around me, until someone had a serious talk with me, that really woke me up. Till this day, I am really grateful for all the friends, especially my clique of friends who kept by my side all the way.

Shortly after, my grandma fell sick too. This time though, I kept my distance. Looking back now, it was really selfish of me,  I know. But I guess, though not justifiable, a part of me was just really afraid. Growing up, I've always been closer to my grandma. Yet, perhaps because of the state of denial that I was going through, I didn't visit her when she was in the hospital. (Honestly, now, I really really hate going to the hospitals.) When she recovered from her stroke and was sent back home, I started visiting her once more, thinking that everything is alright now. Naive, I know. Things were going down in my life and I felt like I was stuck in my valley, yet, lying on her bed, my grandma held me and said, "You can do it." These words were what kept me going all the way.

Things went really wrong when she was once more admitted into the hospital. Given my fear of hospitals (since young) and also my stage of denial, I (once more) didn't visit her. Thinking about it now, I feel horrible. I prayed for her recovery, did all I could, just except visiting her. Thank God, there was a turn in her situation and things were starting to look up again. In fear of losing her as well, I kept praying for full recovery. It was just too soon. On one particular Friday though, 3rd May to be exact, we were given news that she was getting better and could be discharged soon. On the same Friday evening however, due to sudden complications, my grandma left, to join my grandpa. I've always regretted not visiting her, it is selfish of me. But I couldn't help it. I can only thank God I wasn't selfish enough to stop my mum from visiting her on her last night. But that's a story for another day.. When she left, I decided to keep it to myself. After all, keeping it to yourself makes everything less real.

Eventually though, it got out of the bag and some of my friends came down to the wake to visit. Gratefulness, is the only word I can use. Grateful, I really am. I can't imagine how I would end up without their help and support. My grandma's last four words for me have always pushed me to keep striving forward, to keep going on. Despite all the regrets I have, I'm grateful that I still have the little things, the small precious moments that I can grasp on to. I wish I could turn things around, change some actions, cherish some moments better, but this is how life works. I will never be able to get my grandparents back, and I will never be able to get my family back as to how it used to be. But, I am still grateful for what I once had. Maybe that's why death has been such a sensitive issue for me.

When my grandma passed away, that was also when my God-blaming moments started. I was really really angry at God for taking her away. And I couldn't understand why she had to leave at such a time. It felt like God was playing a big fat joke on me when she passed away on the same day she was supposed to be discharged from the hospital. For a long time, despite still attending church regularly, I found myself bitter and angry towards Him. When my friends told me that my grandma had lived a long time, I would merely smile and nod my head. While I understood their kind gestures and concern, I was stuck in my own thoughts of fear, denial and grief. By the grace of God, I have friends who kept bringing me back to God's house, week after week. Until one moment of encounter with God completely broke my shell. During the Emerge Camp, while attending a workshop on learning how to seek God's presence through worship, I felt as if God broke through every single barrier around my heart. An encounter that turned my heart around.

Things will never be the same again, and neither do I have all the answers that I wanted. But I believe that despite all that had happen, there is still a purpose. Regardless of what happens or happened, I'm grateful that I have a Father that never (ever) gives up on me, even when I blame Him or am angry towards Him. I'm grateful for friends who kept reaching out to me even when I was cold towards them. Thank God for grace, for protection and for love. As sensitive as death is, I now understand how I can use my life to help others, to appreciate every single moment much more and to love gigantically. :)