I Am Not There

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do but sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

Yesterday was Grandpa's funeral. I thought I was over the grieving. It was like an emotional distancing when I went that morning. Disassociation.

And halfway through the ceremony, as the pastor spoke about Grandpa's last few days and conversations he had with him, I broke down. Grandpa was saying how he will go back to God whenever God calls him to, he is ready. And on any last words for his children or grandchildren? He had nothing to add saying that he was pleased and proud of what each and everyone of us had become. He was proud of our achievements.

And at that point, I couldn't stop the floodgates. Because I could now never have a grandpa present at any life milestone. Be it marriage or a kid.

The startling clarity of what we had lost came to me the moment I landed in Sibu - my grandparents home. There was no grandma, no grandpa. The house had been stripped bare now of their belongings because none of the children lived here anymore. Their belongings had been packed away. Pictures were taken down from the walls - pictures of children and grandchildren graduations, weddings, family photos. In their place, dusty outlines of where they once hung.

And on the last day as I walked around the home, I realised how we were never coming back to this house ever again for the family new year reunion. No more kitchen with overflowing food.

You were the kindest, simplest man I had ever known. So giving that even when you were sick, you gave your money to others who were sick. Always so obliging and generous.

I miss you Grandpa and I hope you're looking down proudly from Heaven.