The Long Way Home...

You never know how fast things can happen. It could hurt so much when you realized you just missed it. Sometimes, you say it is just a dream and it is not real. This should not happen, but it does. You already know it was going to happen anytime soon, but you do not want to accept it. You are praying so hard for a miracle that will not happen.

My life twirled this way. It happened so fast that I wished I was the victim. It had made me travel a long way back to greet my fading memories; a memory which I call home.

I was just walking towards the lift, taking a step after another away from grandpa’s ward when my cell phone rang. It was mom. She was sobbing while telling me that grandpa had breathed his last breath.

My whole body went stiff and I could not move or talk. I stood in front of the open lift with blank mind. I did not even realize that my face was flooded by hot streaming tears until someone gripped my shoulders to hold my quivering body still. Meanwhile, inside my head, I was chanting words like “it is not true”. If it is not, then why am I crying? To answer my question, I snapped out of my weak soul and sprinted back to the ward.

And there he lay, on that uncomfortable bed looking like a man who had just fulfilled his dream. Otherwise, he looked peaceful. Unlike the man I saw before the soul left the body, weak and suffering while having so many tubes sticking through his skin. So everything mom told me on the phone was true.

And here I was, sitting in the bus heading to grandpa’s burial ceremony while sobbing as if a taser was permanently taped to me. There, I was going through every memory I had with grandpa, trying to remember each one more clearly.

The bus eventually took a right turn and the sight of the blue billboard by the traffic junction reminded me of my childhood times. I saw myself still about five years old, laughing merrily as grandpa chased to tickle me. My mouth could suddenly taste the delight of the chocolate grandpa gave after I surrendered the tickle game. After that, the feeling of his warm arms under my thighs as he carried me was so nice.

My next memory of him was when I skidded into a big drain. The pain that struck my broken wrist was horrible. Urgently, grandpa drove me to the hospital. His caring face was filled with worry and fright. I was really glad to know that he cared for me that much. But to think of it this very moment, I would not even get to see his face anymore. The wrinkles that collided with his worried expression will be gone from the human flesh.

And then there are memories of us having happy chit-chats together. We joked most of the time and he would flash his beautiful smile that will only be in my memory from now onwards.

I stared at the green forest from the bus window. Grandpa used to be a soldier. I bet he traveled this place on foot during his young time. A new memory suddenly came in place; it was when grandpa was teaching me how to handle a cleaver, a hoe, a sickle and some other gardening tools. The way he demonstrated it to me was so brave and tough.

     “Grandpa, why do I need to cut these into smaller pieces?” I remembered myself asking that silly question when we were burning bamboo sticks. And then his caring voice chirped in reply,

     “Because we want it to burn faster and easier”

More tears clouded my eyes then. It was hot as it strolled down my cheeks and I knew my face was shades of crimson.

I also remembered when we were celebrating Chinese New Year, mom was so eager to take pictures. There was one where I sat on grandpa’s lap with his arms draped across my lap. For all I remembered, we were giggling about something I did.

     “Make sure you smile always. Don’t let your temper gets to you or you’ll grow old very fast with more grey hairs than I have” he told me this quote almost every weekend when I came to visit him.

I did grow with his advice. The whole growth I had had a smile plastered on and day by day it had turned into a grin. But I could not keep temper away from me. It is naturally in my bloodline.

     “Study hard” was also his main quotation to me. Now that he had stepped into another world, who would give me those sweet important advice?

Besides all that, grandpa also loved telling stories of his pastimes. The way he splayed his arms as he felt his story about being captured by the communist was enjoyable. I miss him terribly.

Then, another flashback came to me. It was the time when I was clipping grandpa’s nails. He had his soft, fragile fingers against my palm. Would I ever feel them again? Probably in my dreams. But if I were to answer the reality, it is a no.

I was not even close to home yet. Not yet on the peek of my memories. There is still a lot more to refresh and go through down the memory lane heading to a place called my home.

I closed my eyes and saw a little picture of a young girl about five years old laughing cheerfully as she ran up the stairs without her clothes on. I recognize this image. The girl was me. Grandpa was trying to snap a picture of my naked body because I did not want to put on any clothes. It was happy times, and the happy feeling prickled in my heart as that memory faded away replacing it with another one.

The next one was grandpa crouching on the front lawn holding a shovel. He looked up at me and stretched his lips forming his most beautiful smile. This image was when I tried to spray him with pipe water. He managed to catch me and threw me up in the air. With these memories cramming pain into my chest, a big fat tear made its way out my eyes again.

     “Jane?” grandma’s voice called me in the silent bus. My eyes fluttered open and I saw her chagrin face as her hand reached for a strand of hair that glued across my forehead. “Don’t cry anymore. Grandpa will feel sad seeing you like this”

Her words of comfort seem to make me sob harder. It was difficult to control the wound in my heart.

     “Shh…he will be with God. Don’t cry. Be happy that he is no longer suffering” she added.

Grandma’s last sentence revived the memory of grandpa’s sick moments. The time when he was just laying on the bed with tears strolling down his soft wrinkly cheeks. It was also the time where he could not move at all. I remembered wiping cold sweat from his forehead. He was definitely suffering in that condition.

After that, another memory of him popped. It was the part where grandpa voiced his last word. My cousin was asking him whether he wanted a shave and he answered,

     “Yes”. That was it. His voice box blocked his voice to come out. So the whole time we were with him before he passed away, we did not hear him say any words anymore.

The bus came to a stop and it was time to get off. Ahead of the bus was the church and there was grandpa’s coffin. Many people were surrounding it. The sky looked cloudy and there was a mere sign that it was going to rain soon.

When the burial mass was done, when grandpa’s coffin was locked up for good, we headed to the grave yard. All the grandchildren were requested to carry flowers for grandpa as we led to the grave yard. This part will definitely be in my collection of memories.

And again, I got drowned by tears. I could not stand watching them roll the coffin seven feet down the earth. How could they do that to grandpa!? Like I expected, the rain began to fall.

Therefore, this is the last memory I shall have of him. His coffin covered by the brick-coloured earth and then the rain. I am hardly at the peek of my memories yet but I did felt the sensation of home as I came this far. There is a lot more to walk through to get home and this surely have been the long way home.