HOLY (CRAP) WEEK
I was really looking forward to holy week. You could have seen it in my eyes and my body language. Every sinew of my being was begging for a break. My weary brain needed the rest. My DVD collection was begging to be watched. My PS2 was waiting for me to push its buttons. I was longing for some time to rest.
Then my grandpa had to go and ruin it all by going to the ICU and dying. He was in the hospital and was all set to go home on Holy Tuesday. Unfortunately, he was rushed back to the ICU Monday night. Intubated, sedated and wored up to one contraption or the other.
There were good moments. He couldn't speak but he was winking, nodding, clasping your hand and writing stuff down. In the bad moments, his skin would turn ashen black and he:d be unconscious. He was like that for days until he chose to leave us on Black Saturday. He was 87, six days shy of his birthday and he chose to die on the 63rd anniversary of his marriage to my grandma.
The day he died was extremely hard. Had a row with my holier-than-thou uncle. Was the only one watching as he got embalmed and dressed. Had to pick up his son who flew in from the States and tell him that his dad died while he was in mid-flight.
It was hard to grieve when the next days were filled with high drama. Petty family arguments. Finger-pointing. Fights. The stuff telenovelas are made of. Vandolph could have played me.
Still, we survived each other long enough to lay my grandfather to rest. His final wish was for his fractured family to come together and forgive and forget. I unfortunately cannot guarantee that it will ever happen.
*****
I'd like to thank 141 worldwide, the company I work for for letting me have time to grieve. I apologize to everyone who had to take up the slack while I was away.
I'd also like to thank all those who came and sent their prayers and support to myself and my family.
I'm also sorry for the lack of updates. I guess you understand why It has been quiet.
Then my grandpa had to go and ruin it all by going to the ICU and dying. He was in the hospital and was all set to go home on Holy Tuesday. Unfortunately, he was rushed back to the ICU Monday night. Intubated, sedated and wored up to one contraption or the other.
There were good moments. He couldn't speak but he was winking, nodding, clasping your hand and writing stuff down. In the bad moments, his skin would turn ashen black and he:d be unconscious. He was like that for days until he chose to leave us on Black Saturday. He was 87, six days shy of his birthday and he chose to die on the 63rd anniversary of his marriage to my grandma.
The day he died was extremely hard. Had a row with my holier-than-thou uncle. Was the only one watching as he got embalmed and dressed. Had to pick up his son who flew in from the States and tell him that his dad died while he was in mid-flight.
It was hard to grieve when the next days were filled with high drama. Petty family arguments. Finger-pointing. Fights. The stuff telenovelas are made of. Vandolph could have played me.
Still, we survived each other long enough to lay my grandfather to rest. His final wish was for his fractured family to come together and forgive and forget. I unfortunately cannot guarantee that it will ever happen.
*****
I'd like to thank 141 worldwide, the company I work for for letting me have time to grieve. I apologize to everyone who had to take up the slack while I was away.
I'd also like to thank all those who came and sent their prayers and support to myself and my family.
I'm also sorry for the lack of updates. I guess you understand why It has been quiet.
