Theresa Lee Yam Soo

I was sitting in the office lobby worrying about something trivial when my dad called. I panicked, not because I knew but because I had thought that he called to asked if I had found my keys which I had misplaced. To think that was all I could worry about when that very morning itself, they had already told me to be mentally prepared as they headed over to the hospital because She had been admitted, again.


People talk about death like they know what it is. They don't. I don't. Even after Her passing, I don't. All I know is that, it's not something I can forget. Yes, there are moments when I feel like everything is fine, everything is okay, and then I remember. And it just hits me. She's gone.
 
Glee's "Quarterback" episode, in tribute to Cory Monteith's passing explains it perfectly. In this one scene where his parents are clearing out his things, his mom says "And for just a second, you forget. And then, oh you remember, and it's like getting that call again and again every time." funny how I have that memorised. It doesn't take much memorizing when it's what you actually feel. And oh, it does. Remembering her death felt exactly like that. Tomorrow marks the second week since Her passing and still, every once in awhile, I get hit by the force of this feeling. Maybe because it still feels so fresh. I get all choked up, the back of my eyes burn, and it's like someone is digging out a part of my chest, leaving me feeling very hollow and empty.

Death is ugly as much as it is beautiful. Ugly because, we're all pieces to a puzzle. When She passed, She left a gaping hole that no one can fill. Especially one as intricate and vibrant as She was. And beautiful because she brought her family together as Her final act on Earth. We are a big family, 11 kids and all scattered due to fights and human selfishness. At her funeral mass, my uncle was the who wrote her eulogy and he managed to encompass a lady with a big heart and personality so perfectly in this one sentence

"We are not accidents. We were an intricate design of her masterful brushstroke."

I would continue on but, it's still hard for me to talk about my grandma without feeling the need to curl up into a fetus position and bawl my eyes out. She was after all the brave lady who took me in when no one wanted me in their home. And even after I left her nest, she would still welcome me with open arms every time I come back crying and nurse me back to health.