I couldn't believe myself when I stood there beside the hospital bed, looking down at the tiny lady sleeping on the bed, tucked in warmly by the blankets we bought her.
I felt so guilty leaving her alone at night, especially when she would wake up anytime and start playing with her blankets like a little child.
Yes, my grandma spirits had been reduced back to that of a little child, no more than 6 years old. Her memories faded, her sense of recognizing gone, and all that was left of her was her charming wrinkled face and beautiful, beautiful greyish-blue eyes.
I couldn't have asked for a better grandmother.
She was 97 and she looked frail and small, but she still had the strength of a normal person like you and me. She had a very, very happy life, and I knew that she enjoyed every ounce of it.
She was very protective of her children and her grandchildren, and definitely of her great-grandchildren.
I used to be stubborn, spoiled and rude towards her when I was a little girl, but as I grew up the protective sense that was with her all along began to pass down to me. I wouldn't let anyone, anyone hurt her in whatever way possible.
I expected her to live up to a century old, but she failed me in this category. She was good-spirited and delightful up to the very end of her time, and I thank God for not letting her suffer.
She was a wonderful woman, and she had a wonderful life that she deserved. Plus she died a very natural death.
And I won't stay sad and gloomy for who-knows-how-long, because I don't think my grandma would've wanted me to be upset. Sure I'm upset that she couldn't stay just a little bit longer on Earth, but I'm really happy for her to be resting in peace.
I love you, granny.
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