I don’t like thinking about death. It kind of bugs me sometimes how death always intrigues me somehow, even when I don’t want it to. I, like most people, tend to be drawn to death in the news, feel solemn after hearing about a relative or friend’s death, or think very often about the fragility of my existence.
“I wonder what I could have done to prevent [this guy in the newspaper] from jumping if I knew him?”
“201 passengers died on that flight?!”
” ______ passed away.”
“Oh. Really?” I say after falling silent. I don’t like asking how they have suddenly died, but my mom usually continues on and tells me. A montage of memories then flies through my mind like a silent film.
“How much time do I have left?”
Too many thoughts focused on death, and not on life. But death always has a way of creeping up into the thoughts of the living…
—-
I spent time with my family at home about a month ago, before had school started up again. I was rumbling through official documents that my parents stored away, looking for my passport for my first trip without adult supervision or my family. I happened upon a very peculiar brochure. It was of a nearby memorial park/cemetery. An envelope with it consisted of a receipt and certificate for a plot of land at the cemetery, reserved for my grandmother.
It was like having a notice of her impending departure from this world slapped across my face. Like it was set in stone, that she would soon not be here…
The grandmother that has always been someone by my side. Hugging my tears away when I got into fights with my parents, picking me up from the bus stop or busing with me to and from school in San Francisco, cooking when my parents weren’t home and I had yet to pick up a spatula.
It took me a while to swallow up my emotions and hold back my tears. It was hard. I am used to crying at little things, let alone something like this. I was upset, but since we had a house of guests that day, including my grandmother, I let it blow by. Although I didn’t cry that time, tears naturally flow down as I’m writing this Tumblr post.
I definitely take this as a sign to cherish her more, to constantly pray that for many remaining years of life to come, she would have nothing but happiness in her life.
To not leave this post on such a sad note, let me share a recent tidbit from my family’s trip to Florida this summer (without me or my dad =’[ ) :
My grandmother proudly told me that she went on all the rollercoaster and thrill rides at Disneyworld and Universal Studios with my younger sisters and cousins. My mom and my aunts were too scared to ride them, but my grandmother, at the age of 81 years old, rode them like she was still enjoying the courage and playfulness that, for most, only compliment youth.
She goes to casinos with her elderly friends every week, travels by bus and walking every single day, and doesn’t let age change the way she’s lived life for over 80 years.
After this post, I will have to get back to reading for class tomorrow. My one wish is for her to outlive my remaining years in school and wait until she sees me as an adult, until she sees that all her years of raising me has not gone to waste, until I have more time to spend with her, not worrying about what I’m going to do with my life (at that point, in which, I’ll hopefully have a job that I love going to everyday.)
—-
Please wait for me. ^^
我爱你. ❤
Periwinkle Raindrops and Puffs 