I really thought I was better. Until I broke down in class today. Yes, the kids did kinda trigger it because they were distracted and uncooperative, but I also knew deep down that they really didn’t do anything so severe that warranted such a tirade. It was unprofessional on my part, and I was ashamed that they had to be subjected to my emotional outbursts. :(

Coping with the death of someone so close to you really isn’t easy. It’s been just over a week since he passed on, and every now and then I find myself missing my Grandpa heaps. I have not been able to enter his room yet. A few nights ago, when my boys (Liverpool) played against Grandpa’s team (Arsenal), I couldn’t bring myself to watch the match. I knew I’d miss him too much, and that sitting beside an empty recliner would have been too painful.

To be completely honest, I had no idea I’d be that affected by his passing. After all, he had been physically absent for three months, since he was at the hospice. I thought that would’ve helped me prepare for this. But I guess I’d never fully accepted that his absence would be a permanent one. Now that the truth has finally hit home, I find myself going in and out of a void that is depressing and miserable.

I hate being like this. It has affected my usually perky mood in class, and my students are noticing it. They keep asking me if I’m okay, and I feel guilty. I was fully convinced that I needed to get myself out of this funk fast. Then I remembered, even Jesus wept (John 11:35). That’s how I knew it is okay to cry, and it’s okay to take my time. Because I am supposed to feel sad. After all, I have suffered a great loss.

I think what’s important is I accept that I can embrace this grief, but not wallow in it. It’s a fine line but I know things will get better. Because the Lord will lift me up. And my friends and family will help me get through this. :)

I hesitated writing about this, mostly because the pain is still so new. But I also wanted to document this memory and make sure I don’t forget this too soon.

My grandfather passed away on 16 August 2011. 4 days before my birthday (today).

We got the first call last Saturday night (13 Aug), when the nurses told us he wasn’t doing too well. We all rushed down and learnt that because he had too much phlegm stuck in his chest, he had to wear the oxygen tube. We left after making sure his condition had been stabilised, but none of us could sleep well that night. The next morning (14 Aug), at church, we received another call telling us that his blood pressure was really low. Again, we rushed to the hospital, this time summoning all his children and grandchildren. We prayed over him a whole lot, but Grandpa didn’t seem entirely happy that we were all fussing over him. He took it as an ominous sign that we were all there. By then, he was already too weak to talk, so he was also highly frustrated that none of us could understand him. We all finally decided to leave after the nurses assured us that things were fine. Again, none of us slept well.

On Monday morning (15 Aug), the doctors told us that Grandpa only had a few hours left. At this stage, we had already been on that emotional roller-coaster ride for too long. So we found ourselves going through the motions, dazed, and got things ready for the funeral and wake service. Little did we expect that the few hours would last another 30 hours.

I went back to work on Tuesday (16 Aug) hoping I could take my mind off things for awhile. I arrived at the hospice at 2:15pm and was pleasantly surprised to see that Grandpa looked better. After a quick lunch and a chat with my parents and aunties, I went to check on Grandpa. Grandpa was still fast asleep, only this time, I noticed that his breathing had slowed down significantly. Then, everything stopped.

My dad immediately said a prayer for Grandpa. When I opened my eyes, I saw Grandpa shed his final tear. I knew then that that was it. My grandfather had left us. It was 2:45pm. God had answered my prayer for me to be by my grandfather’s side when he passes away.

Even though we were more or less prepared for his passing, it was not easy. We found out early this year that Grandpa had advanced lung cancer and because he was 86, the doctors advised against putting him through chemotherapy. Grandpa was in and out of the hospital a bit and was slightly cranky he couldn’t be home. But we were thankful. Thankful that he didn’t experience any severe pain, thankful that he didn’t have to go through chemo, thankful that he was able to enjoy good health for the first 85 years of his life.

When he was finally transferred to the hospice, we prayed that he’d come to develop a personal relationship with God. He had been going to church for a good portion of his life but we always knew he didn’t really connect with God on a more personal level. So we prayed that the volunteers would minister to him, that he would start trusting the Lord in spite of his situation. Unfortunately, we never saw the change.

Little did we know, God had it all figured out.

After his passing, one of the volunteers who had worked really closely with Grandpa shared a beautiful story, one that we all needed to hear. Previously, Grandpa had only been interested in getting people to pray for his healing, exasperated when asked if there was anything else they could pray for. Things took a turn towards the end of his life when Grandpa’s prayer requests completely shifted. He stopped focusing on himself and started focusing on his family.

It was the perfect ending to a very trying chapter. Above all, we were incredibly thankful that the Lord had answered our prayers. :)

The wake services and funeral took a huge toll on all of us. There were plenty of tears shed, and of course, I broke down while delivering the eulogy. But we were completely at peace amid all the madness, and for that, we knew that we had the Lord to thank for being our Rock, our Deliverer and most of all, our Comforter.

I miss you heaps, Grandpa. :(

Today, I’m feeling majorly (and inexplicably) dispirited, where wallowing and sighing seem to be the only appropriate things to do.

I can’t quite put my finger on why I’m feeling this way, but I have a few theories:

1. A friend from Brissie gave birth this morning, and I’m yet again reminded that I’ll miss out BIG TIME when two of my closest friends (who are also in Brissie) give birth to their own kids.

2. As though having these two so far away isn’t enough, another one is on her way to leaving us for Liverpool to do her second degree next month.

3. I appear to be losing passion for my job.

4. I’ll be turning 29 soon and I feel like I haven’t done anything significant with my life.

5. For once, I honestly don’t know what the next 5 years of my life is gonna be like. (Not like I’ve ever known, but I usually have some sorta plan/idea…)

I know that God has it all figured out, and there’s no reason for me to worry about anything at all. Problem is, I don’t think I’m actually submitting my worries to Him, because I don’t exactly know what they are. Tell me what I’m feeling is normal?

. . . . .

Song of the Day

Promises, Promises, by Incubus