It’s been 3 years since you left. You still cross my mind.

Your number remains on my contact list. The number is probably held by someone else now, but I can’t bring myself to delete your name.  

I still remember the feel of your skin; the calluses on your hands; the prickliness of your unshaved beard.

Yeye, can you see me from where you are?

I only had 21 years with you. Of course, I wish I had more. But 21 years out of your 99 years on this earth is also plenty. After all, I had spent most of those 21 years under the care of you and Mama.

I remember how every morning at precisely 8 am, you would switch the television channel to Cartoon Network so that Nick and I could watch our favourite cartoons. Even though the kids channels weren’t included in your cable package, you specially subscribed to them so Nick, Mei, and I could have a wide variety of kids channels to choose from.

Your memory was excellent. Even at the age of 99, you still remembered the birthdays of everyone in the family. That’s at least 25 birthdays to remember! And having lived through WWII, you were the perfect person to tell me about those times. I even contemplated writing a biography based on your wealth of experiences across the globe. Yet, my procrastination led to the loss of that opportunity.

You were a man of few words, but when you spoke, everyone in the room would stop what they were doing to listen to you. Even now, I would do anything just to hear your voice again, just to hear you tell me you are proud of me.

My grandfather passed away 3 years ago.

I still remember how as he grew older and weaker, I made sure I spent more time with him. And each time after visiting him, I would say “Bye Yeye, see you next week!” because I wanted him to know I was looking forward to seeing him again the next week.

I remember, on the last night I saw him alive, I kissed his cheek and told him

“Yeye, I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

That night, I felt prompted to say something more, and so my last words were a whisper,

“Love you, Yeye.”

Later on that night, he passed on in his sleep.

Death has been a long feared concept. A taboo subject, a less discussed topic. As a Christian, I believe that death should not be feared. But that’s another story to tell.

Death comes to us all eventually, but to be honest, I don’t think I’m ever ready to deal with it. There are many books and articles teaching you how to cope with death, but what I want to say is that it’s okay to not ever feel ready for it. Be it your own death, or the passing of a loved one.

Yet, rather than constantly dwelling on it and living in anxiety, I choose to live every day as though it is my last. And that means spending as much time as possible with the ones I love and making sure they know I love them.

..

….

……

….

..

I’m thankful on that last night I spoke to my grandfather, I expressed my love. Had I been shy or awkward in expressing my feelings, I would have missed the opportunity to let him know I loved him. So why don’t you pick up the phone to tell your mum you love her? Or give your dad a hug tonight. Do it while you still can.