I'll see you when I see you

Grand dad, in a picture taken on our final walk together.

My maternal grandfather passed away peacefully this morning at 9.30am in a Kuala Lumpur hospital. He was 89 years of age.

The last time we met, it was slightly under 3 weeks ago. The occasion was my grandmother's birthday and pretty much the whole clan travelled from all over the world to celebrate this momentous occasion. I remember joking with my mom that grand dad may have thought that with all of the relatives congregating at this time, he might have thought that they were preparing for his funeral by seeing him one last time.

Dramatic irony, quite.

Many in the family had decided that grand dad had lost his marbles due to his incoherent (sometimes) babbling and reminiscing of past events. Indeed, towards his final months, he had mild dementia and was disoriented at times. Sure, there was once he warned me that my wife was an unfaithful seductress and she should be cut off at all cost.

Hmm...any comment, darling?

However, over the past year as I visited him, and during moments when he was relatively alert, I could detect a twinkle in his eye that told me not to underestimate his memory and consciousness of events around him.

I remember the time when I met him for the first time since he became bed ridden. I was on a business trip to Malaysia. I was concerned for his mental state as during my initial conversations with him, I assessed them to be rational and legible. He was bed ridden for four months without ever an opportunity to see what it was like outside his room. Together with another cousin, we literally lifted his wheel chair out onto the lanes outside the house. And then he started singing.

A merry heart does good like a medicine: but a broken spirit dries the bones.

He was so addicted to his new found freedom that he started to ask for more and wanted to be taken on a car ride. That was when he decided that he was going to be bedridden no more and started walking unaided from his wheel chair ---- a rather worrying period because he would get up onto his feet without anyone's knowledge and risked a nasty fall, which he did several months later.

I remember the last 2 times we met.

The first was at his home when he was sitting in his wheelchair, at the driveway. It was late morning and he was being fed.

"Paul," he exclaimed when he saw me, which took everyone else by surprise given his recently demented state.

I sought help to push him in his wheelchair, out into the neighbouring lanes as before. I managed to find my aunt's husband, slapped a cap onto grand dad's head and together we pushed him around in the lane at the back. It was getting hot as the sun reached into its mid day position. The fact the house was built on a slope did not help in our cause to push grand dad around. We took him on the flatest lane possible and headed back to the house.

"Just one more time," requested grand dad as we were nearing the house again.

My uncle and I looked at each other and agreed that one more time was possible. And so we brought him on another round.

We reached the house and wheeled grand dad in.

"Just one more time," grand dad looked at me with his bulging eyes.

My uncle had already gone into the house, a little fatigued from his effort. I was left in the driveway with grand dad.

I scanned the house for relatives to help. I looked at grand dad and replied that I could not do it alone as it would have been terribly dangerous for me to push him out onto the sloping lanes alone. It did not help that grand dad was not a light person.

"Just one more time," was his response.

I was torn between his request and the rational. The sun was now at its highest point in the noon day sky. I did not have the assistance of relatives.

As I heard chatter of relatives from the house, I put my hand on grand dad's and apologised that I was not able to grant his wish.

"Just one more time...please," he tried.

The best I could do was to wheel him around the driveway, which was pathetically restricted compared with what he had just experienced. I did that anyhow. All of us have wishes in life but sometimes, due to various circumstances, they unfortunately just cannot be fulfilled.

The last time I saw grand dad was at my grandmother's birthday banquet. It was towards the end of the banquet and people were bidding their farewells.

"Grand dad," I covered his hand with mine, " I will see you when I see you."

With a weary nod, he acknowledged me and as our hands firmly clasped each other's in final contact.

You are in a much better place now grand dad.

I will see you when I see you.