ambiguity

May 3, 2009

eulogy

Filed under: Uncategorized — theinkhorn @ 3:51 am

Its been a week since my grandmother passed away. To say that it has been one of the toughest seven days of my life is the understatement of the year.

My grandmother… i can’t even find the words. The most amazing woman, apart from my mother, i have ever known. The woman who helped bring up my 6 other cousins and i, and never complained about it one bit. Well, not in front of us, anyway. It was bad enough that she had to deal with her own children; one had a severe gambling problem, one cut herself off from the entire family, one had 3 kids to take up her time, and of course, my mother, with whom she spoke with almost every night.

I remember going to her place every sunday when i was young. She’d cook us dinner, and make us some aloe vera dessert. She grew aloe vera in the backyard, so it was always fresh and sweet. She’d rub it on the bruises i got from falling down the stairs too.

The night she left, i had just arrived home from work, tired, cold, hungry. My mom came into my room and broke the news, and i remember asking her “what?” about four times. I spent the next hour under the covers, eyes wide open. A few hours later, we gathered at her house to start preparing for her funeral. Her coffin laid right in the centre of the hall. I remember walking up to it, peering through the glass at her face, and thinking to myself “what i wouldn’t do to be able to hold her hand again”.

We cremated her last wednesday, after a lengthy sermon from her pastor. I watched my mother cry as the coffin slowly disappeared into the furnace, and it dawned on me that one day, i’m going to lose her, just as she lost her mother. I slipped my hand into hers and gave it a squeeze. When i came home that night, for the first time in years, i bawled my eyes out.

I love my grandmother. And it kills me that i never got to say goodbye. I miss her more than words can describe. I miss her smile, i miss her cheeky wink, and i miss hearing her mistake me for my dad everytime she calls. Even as i’m writing this, it feels like someone’s sticking a fork in my heart and pouring alcohol all over the wound. But if my grandma could see me now, she’d give me that wink again and tell me that if i don’t stop crying, she’d call the police on me.

It used to be called “Grandma’s place”. I don’t know what to call it now.

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8 Comments »

  1. hey alvin, sher here.
    from class.
    chin up, and tilt that fedora the way you do when you greet ok?
    im sorry for your loss.
    please take care.

    Comment by sherlyn — May 5, 2009 @ 1:23 pm

  2. thank you sherlyn.

    Comment by theinkhorn — May 5, 2009 @ 11:23 pm

  3. Hey alv, oli here. I’m really sorry to hear about your loss.
    Stay strong and positive like the alvin i always knew yea.
    Take care.

    Comment by Olivia — May 6, 2009 @ 9:41 pm

  4. i really don’t think i was ever positive. ever. but thank you oli.

    Comment by theinkhorn — May 7, 2009 @ 12:05 am

  5. Okay, maybe confident. Mhmm. :)
    take care alright.

    Comment by Olivia — May 8, 2009 @ 3:25 pm

  6. Hey, I am sorry to hear about your loss. But keep going, stay strong.

    Comment by Anonymous — May 10, 2009 @ 5:02 pm

  7. thanks.

    Comment by theinkhorn — May 10, 2009 @ 5:07 pm

  8. stay strong dude!

    Comment by Anonymous — May 17, 2009 @ 4:56 pm


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