Seventeen

I could imagine, 17 years ago, your anticipation. The longing for my arrival. Though I have no recollection, I really thank God you were around when I first opened my eyes. You watched me grow day by day, you heard my first words. Five. You fetch me to kindergarten and wait for me at the void deck after school. The sun sets, and you make me go to bed at nine. Saturday morning, and I follow you to the market. Sundays, always the best. You wake me up so early, we reach church way before service starts. I lead you to your usual seat on the pews-seventeen. Run to get the bulletin for you. You adjust your glasses a little and start singing while I stare blankly at the chinese characters. Time for offering, and I wait for the bag to reach us. I would gently place the note inside without quite knowing its significance. After service, I run up the flight of stairs to the gallery where it's quiet to pray. To ask God to protect us. To thank God. Seven, and I attend school in the morning. You walk me to the road a few blocks down and wait for the schoolbus to arrive. I wave to you and slowly watch your figure diminish as the bus turns away. After school, and you pick me up at the same area. My hungry stomach churns while I watch you prepare lunch. In the evening when you weren't looking, I would playfully sneak to the refrigerator to steal a sip of cold drink. On days when I'm unlucky you would catch me red-handed and make me go on my knees in the balcony. Till I apologised. On days when you're in a better mood you'd randomly tell me to get a pen and paper to jot down the lyrics while you sing. Your favourite's Jesus Loves Me. Twelve, and I moved. Reluctantly. We hardly slept in the same house since, but I'd go to your place after school, every day, without fail. And I feel like a child all over again. A year back. Your memory started to fail you. You seemed to lose awareness. I was really frightened, keeping my fingers crossed you'd be fine the next morning. Months back, I knew. I knew but tried my best to run away. Selfishly prayed for God not to take you home. Perhaps this has been in me since young. I've never imagined a day without you. Like a kid, I thought if I stopped thinking about it everything'd be fine. But no, not this time. It was time for me to let go. That night on the cab when I recieved the phonecall, I almost passed out. Most painful night. With a lump in my throat I sprinted all the way to your bedside. You have left. Peacefully. Trembling, I went to your ear and whispered 'I love you Grandmom'. Holding my breath as I prayed, I knew you were finally free from all the pain. I knew you were safe. With God. I just wanna thank you Lord, I would have crumbled if not for You.

It's the first time in 17 years. You're not around to celebrate it with me. Sometimes when I close my eyes I really wish you'd be right in front of me when they fly open. How many times have I cried? I can't remember. Neither can I stop. But when I look up at the sky at night, I feel safe, because I know you're watching me from above. With God. This is the best thing in my life. Celebrations don't matter anymore. I'm contented enough, when I know I already have the best. I miss you Grandmom, and I'm now 17. I love you, and this it will be, forever.