Two funerals within a month

I believed I'd mentioned something about attending several funerals in my last post. Actually, I'd attended two funerals this year and both are only a month apart. So, it was really devastating, especially when both funerals that I attended are funerals of people I really loved and cared about.

The first funeral I attended this year was that of my Godfather's. He passed away on New Year's eve and I regret not being there to see him for one final time before he left all of us. He supposedly died of a heart attack. But the truth was much more difficult and long to explain. He had been suffering from some sort of blood disease for more than a year when he passed on. The symptoms were similar to that of a leukemia patient where his red blood cells are much, much lower than his white blood cells. 2-3 days before he passed away, my Godfather was admitted into the hospital because he needed to get blood transfusion, something that he always needed at the end of each month. His liver had ceased to function properly and could not produce the amount of red blood cells his body needed, thus the need to go for blood transfusion every month. The blood transfusion that day went well and there were no complications. But the next day, the hospital staff needed to transfused some palettes or something like that (things and terms that I'm not too sure about) and this time around, things went awry and somehow, the liquid got into his lungs and he had problem breathing, and this lead to his heart pumping harder and faster, something which his heart is not strong enough to do so. Before anybody could guess what happen, he had a stroke and he couldn't talk for the rest of the day and night. When my Godmother went to the hospital, thinking that she could fetch her husband back home and usher in the New Year, she had the shock of her life to see her husband laying on bed, unable to move and the doctors were around to tell her to "be prepared" because he might not make it through the night. At the eve of New Year, my Godpa really couldn't make it and he passed away.

Even until now, after 6 months had passed, the feeling is still very surreal. I know my Godpa's no longer alive, yet at the same time, my mind refuse to register the fact and every time I visit my Godma, I half expect my Godpa to come out of the house to greet me like he always does. It was a really hard time letting go off him, especially for my Godma. I admit that there were times when I really dislike my Godpa for scolding, arguing and belittling my Godma but deep down inside my heart, I'd always love him for he's the only Godpa I have. The whole funeral was so surreal that I barely cried for the first few days I was there. But when the time came for the undertakers to push his coffin with his body inside into the furnace burner, I cried. Long and hard. My Godma went hysterical at that moment. I think that if we did not held on to her, she would have rushed headlong and jumped into the furnace along with Godpa's coffin. The moment I saw the undertakers pushing Godpa's coffin into the furnace, all feelings of surreality disappeared right there and reality dawned on me that I'll never see my Godpa in real life again. But after so many months had passed, the feeling of surreality is back. I just can't help it. The feeling is just like Godpa just went on a really, REALLY LOONNGGG holiday and he'll come back soon, even though I know it's not true deep down inside.

Less than a month later on, my grandaunt passed away. The pain is not so great and intense this time around. I don't know why, maybe everybody's been expecting for her to passed on for a really long time now. I'm not trying to sound cruel and neither am I cruel. That is the harsh truth. My grandaunt had been suffering from kidney liver for nearly 20 years and she had to go for dialysis every few days for the past 20 years. Imagine somebody you love and respect going for dialysis every few days for 20 years. And every time I see her, which was not very often, as I grew up, I see her shrinking in size and for the last couple of years, osteoporosis invaded her body and made her shrink even more. For a few years, her size made her look just like a kid but her face, her face...there are more wrinkles and sometimes I can't help thinking that maybe death is a better solution for her than to let her continue suffer. I'm not cruel in thinking like that, I just can't bear to see her suffer and shrink any smaller anymore. Frankly, the whole family just does not want to see her suffer any longer.

The weird part about attending my grandaunt's funeral was that I did not cry at all. Not a single tear drop from my eyes. I know I was sad deep down inside but I was unable to cry. Not even when the undertakers pushed her coffin into the furnace. I did not shed a single tear. I'm not cold hearted. That much I know cause I'm the type who cries easily. But that day, the tears just won't come. Maybe because I know she wouldn't be suffering anymore and she's finally found peace. I don't know for sure. I'm just very glad that she doesn't need to suffer on earth anymore.

After all the pain and tears I witnessed throughout the two funerals I'd attended, I don't think I can go through another funeral this year, especially if the funeral happens to be that of my Granny who had looked after and cared for me for the past 20 years. I just really, really hope that she'll get better and live long enough to see me graduate and get married. Better still if she could live to see her great-grandchildren. =)