Dear Grandma,

I miss when you were still lucid enough to give me advice on relationships. On family and on boys.

I miss when you’d interject our family conversations with random but rather relevant hokkien phrases.

I miss when you’d have the energy to walk a few hundred meters to the market, pick out what you needed and come back to cook for the day.

I miss your chicken rice, and briyani, ba zhang, vegetable porridge and corn shaped agar agar that was actually colored yellow and green in the right places. I appreciate how you’d always prepare an extra plate of a non-spicy variant of your spicy dish for me.

I miss watching you in the kitchen.

I miss how you’d cycle alongside me to the park.

I miss feeling so safe when you slept beside me, that when you went over to sleep in my brother’s room, I remember feigning crying so you’d come back to mine.

I guess it was such a slow process that I didn’t even notice that you were losing your mass and losing your mind; that the food was getting more and more stale and you were getting more and more frustrated.

I regret that it took a stroke for us to pay more attention to you, and I regret that certain family members don’t even show you respect sometimes, now you’re in this state.

I know you miss those times too, that you’re frustrated with what you are now, and I know that sometimes you feel like giving up. I wish I knew how to help the situation, and I wish I could let you live a happy life, however more years you have ahead of you.

But I don’t. I don’t know how to deal with it, and sometimes I don’t like how it is at home. So I run, and I hope you will forgive me.

Please don’t go so soon, because I don’t know what life is like without you.

I don’t know how to deal with people who are severely depressed.

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About stooffi

my name is steph. i love cute fluffy things and dancing. my interests include advertising, public relations and internet marketing. i hate writing about myself.

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