Two minutes before two in the afternoon. Who could ever say that these minutes will signal your last stay on earth? Only two minutes left but was never use anymore? Life and death co-exist. Time, as it implies, can never held by humans. Only Him decides on it. One fifty-eight in the afternoon, his last minute of life. His last breath.
It’s been hours since I last saw my lolo. Yes, we (my brother and my younger sister), visited him today, just hours ago (9:00 in the morning). Though I have seen him so weak in the hospital bed, there is this hope that I kept holding on. I thought I can still talk to him hours ago, but no, he cannot keep his eyes open anymore.
It is a sad realization that although I kept on talking to him and telling him to wake up, he never did. It was hard for me just standing at his foot while squeezing it (like I used to, when I am massaging him before) and repeatedly asking him to wake up because I am already there. I remember telling my mom yesterday to tell my lolo to wait for me today (because she tells me that my lolo asks for me). I felt this sudden guilt because I never visited him during those days he can still open his eyes. I am sorry. I really did.
My lolo is a war veteran. He was based in the USA and has spent most of his time there. But, he never failed to let his children here give and support their needs. I am proud to say that he is one of the reasons I have finished my studies because he helped me during those times I need tuition fees and other school requirements. The most unforgettable memory I had with him was when I asked him to find me books about massage and the like (I am a frustrated physical therapist back then) when he return in the USA. And he never failed me, just one day, I found this white plastic bag with my name on it and viola, there goes my books. My lolo, he was a giver. He was really kind.
Time can testify the memories we had with him. Those precious memories we will never forget as long as we live. I will remember my lolo as a courageous man. He chose to fight his battle well. He knew when its time to give up and let go. His 96 years of living proved how strong he was. I am thankful that he never experience so much pain as he passed away. With him, I will remember every moments I carefully touch his aching body, a moment that will prove that once, as his grand daughter, I had help him eased his pain away. A moment that just a simple I love you will put him to smile widely. And a simple hug had symbolized a caring grand daughter that once I had been.
I love you lolo. Rest in peace. Until we meet again.