I barely know my maternal grandfather. I know certain facts about him: he needs to have one dish at the dinner table that is from Manado, his home area, he was a charmer back in the day, he is half Chinese half Indonesian, he is not a savvy businessperson, and he is an aloof father. I also know he is extremely lucky to have such a devoted wife and children.
Other than that, I don't really know him, and I wonder if he knows me. But now it doesn't look like I'll get the chance to get to know my grandpa, because he is dying. Medicines and treatments have failed, and the damage to his brain is already done, so the family have decided to suspend treatment except for the feeding tube. His consciousness level has dropped to nearly a coma. Who knows how much longer he will be with us.
I've come home to wait with the rest of the family, to show up at the hospital in the afternoons and evenings. My service will be minimal, since everyone else is such great caretakers (like my mother). But I'm looking forward to spending time with everyone as we mill around beside his hospital bed doing whatever it is that families do when there's nothing else to do - except wait.
I'm going to try and record all of this for no one else's benefit but my own. But I'll write here, because that which is deeply personal is universal. Funny how that is, but I thank God for it.
No comments:
Post a Comment