A stranger

The person lying on the hospital bed looked unfamiliar, very much like a stranger.
She reminded me strangely of a skeleton. The pale skin, very thin wispy hair, skeletal skull, sunken eyes.
The more I stared at her, the sadder I became.
I almost didn't recognise her, my grandmother.

I hoped beyond all hopes that it was just another false alarm, like the one she had previously.
When my mother confirmed that she was admitted into hospital, I think I was mentally prepared. As much as I hoped, I prepared myself for it.
Despite how mild the stroke, it is still yet another one on that frail body.

When I reached the hospital, and realise she's admitted to the high-dependency ward, I almost became paranoid.
Hearing my grandmother wail in pain, crying about how she wants to die, instead of live, how ghosts are coming to bring her away really really got to me.
I walked in and out of her ward couple of times, just so I'd have some space to tear a little.
I did not allow myself to cry.
Crying, I felt is a bad omen.
I should only cry when there's death.
Seeing her in hospital, surviving one mild stroke, I should rejoice instead. Because at least she made it through.

It took everything I had, to stop those tears.
I am tired.
I wish I didn't have to stop those tears. Because as easy as it looks, it's just not.

You don't know what it's like.

You don't know what it's like to watch your grandmother grow this skeletal.

You don't know what it's like, when the grandmother you remember looking after you is healthy and able, but the grandmother you see now is a pale pale reflection.

You don't know what it's like to watch you grandmother grow dependent on a maid to walk, and wear pampers like infants because she can no longer control her brain.

You don't know what it's like to watch your grandmother stare at you blankly. As much as you will for her to remember you, she thinks of you only as a stranger.

You don't know what it's like to hear her crying in pain, and wanting to die.

You don't know what it's like to wonder, if she would perhaps been better off living in paradise, instead of suffering the shits of the humanly world.

You don't know what it's like to see her going through what she is going through, but yet there is nothing in this world you could do to alleviate it.

You don't fucking know what it's like.
Don't start pretending you do.

I will not cry.
She is well and able.
Just that she no longer recognises me, and perhaps never will.

I will not cry.
Even though she is suffering and lost her will to live.

I will not cry.