All of Grandma's children and grandchildren were gathered around her hospital bed. Some held onto each other while others stood alone. Two Tibetan monks stood by the head of the bed and chanted in their low, reverberating tones. As the nurse took off Grandma's oxygen mask, silence swept the room, and the only thing we could hear was the gargling sound from her throat that she made when she inhaled and exhaled through her mouth. We watched her chest move heavily up and down, each breath slower and slower, each breath closer to her last. At 5:17pm on Friday, June 17th, Grandma took her last breath.
As I looked around the room of red eyes and teary faces, I thought about everyone's immense sadness, my dad and his sibling's pain of losing their last living parent and my sisters and cousins losing their last living grandparent. In one quick moment, our gigantic family felt instantly small without Grandma around.
But then I realized that like Grandpa, Grandma will never really be gone because her spirit will remain alive in the family she left behind. We will forever have the special bond of sharing the same grandparents and we will keep Grandma's memory alive through our love for one another, appreciation for family and good food, and the lighthearted humor that frequently pervades our interactions with each other.
Ba Noi, you filled our lives with so much love and meaning. We miss you and love you.
No comments:
Post a Comment