I love days like this. My holidays are spent waking up early to go to my grandmother's house, my father will buy breakfast and my sister will take her food and watch cartoons in the living room. Then me and my grandmother would sit in the kitchen, amongst smells of chee cheong fan and chwee kueh and sipping coffee from our porcelain cups.

Today is sunny yet still windy, a beautiful light feeling. Sort of melancholic bittersweetness.

I had a really enlightening talk with my grandmother, over coffee. She talked about life, love, family and relationships and I just sat there listening. All that she said were so simple, yet so true. I told her I read Granduncle Daniel's book and told her how much it touched me, especially what Jenny and Joy said.. And what Si Yi Poh wrote. She smiled and said to me in chinese, "Life is like dewdrops on the leaves, they're gone when the sun dries them up."

It was all such simple words put together, but so poetic and so true.

She then went on tell me these little stories about things she's done for the family, things about money and the like. Little things that teach me little lessons about people and their mistakes. About love and God.. You know. Just life in general, something for me to reflect upon. I like hearing things about life, about people, learning about every minute detail and the simple subtle beauty of things.

All these little moments are moments I'm trying to treasure and remember for the rest of my life. Because I know, and she knows that her dew drop is slowly dissipating away. She knows it. There's alot of things that she doesn't want to tell us because she doesn't want to worry us, but I can see a very very slow fatigue that's consuming her. I can tell and somehow, God is teaching me to let go. I can feel it.

She tells me the things she's done for me, what she has left for me, and for the family. Its her way of preparing for it. They're all really ugly things to hear, but they're reality. No use avoiding and saying "Aiya, no such thing will happen la." because we're all pawns on a chessboard. God decides our next move. I no longer ask God for things I want, but for His will to be. We're not God, we can't decide the future nor can we make it ours. We can only ask for healing and acceptance, and His blessings on us.

I remember back in 2006, before she went to the hospital for her surgery. I was scared and I wanted to hold on to any ounce of faith I had. I asked her exactly what Jenny asked Granduncle Daniel when his health deteriorated.

"Popo, are you scared?"

And strangely enough, she answered just like what Granduncle Daniel said to Jenny. She said, "In everything, we must have faith. I am not scared."

That was why, when I read what Jenny wrote in her testimonial, it brought tears in my eyes. My grandmother and my granduncle both have so much of love and God in their lives, to be able to answer the same way with so much faith and resolution.

Popo always said this to me, "You're the one I can't bear to let go." She worries about me because I'm too naive, too obliging and too succumbing to the ways of the world. Thats why she's trying to teach me more about life now, before she can't be there for me anymore.

And I'm slowly growing and learning, and maturing. And every little story, every little thing advice, I treasure and remember. These are moments that are precious whilst she's still here, they are nothing spectacular or grandiose or remarkable. But moments that are humble, happy and loving but never never ordinary.

I remember back when my grandmother had her second surgery for hernia, Matthew asked me, "How are you dealing with it all?"

I said, "Haha dealing with what?"

"Her slow passing."

Its as if he knows. Like, he understands that I know that she's slowly fading and I'm trying to accept it. (Matthew always seems to understand me, no matter what. Even if I haven't said anything.)

So I answered, "I'm learning to accept it each day."

I thank God for this strength He has given me all this while. Something I never knew I had inside of me. I thank God for everything. Without Him, I would've surely died.

This is something I've been dying and dying to write. Something I wanted to write down but never found the will to, never found the right words to express it. I think my family doesn't believe my grandmother would pass anytime soon. They sorta take her for granted that she'll always be there, like forever. Like death is something still pretty far away. After her surgeries, I know death is never far. Its a miracle that she's still living, as she herself said so.

I don't want her to go, but I'm learning to accept it each day. So that when that day comes, I'd be strong for the family.