▼ △ B R I ▼ △: February 2014

In The Official Bitch Club,

I wasn't very close to my grandfather while he was still alive. He was my mum's dad. I rarely spoke to him and didn't make an effort to visit him despite him staying in the home just opposite my house. I mostly saw him during Christmas or special occasions. When I walk past the home and see him sitting in the garden, I'd just pretend I didn't see him.

I don't really know why I acted this way. Mostly because I'm awkward at interacting with people and also because I always saw my grandfather as a short-tempered and grumpy man. He was always grumbling about everything, and he did a lot of things that made the whole family angry. While my grandmother was still alive, they'd be fighting all the time.

But after he died, and we had the funeral mass and my uncle said the eulogy, I somehow understood what made him so miserable.

He was just a small boy when his mum passed away. The most important woman in his life was gone. It was a few days after his birthday, if I'm not wrong. One of the presents she had given him before passing away was a crossword puzzle book and this explains why he was always doing crossword puzzles.

Anyway, he eventually met my grandmother and they had 9 children altogether (6 boys, 3 girls). They actually had 10 children but the eldest son passed away when he was just 1 year old.

They lived a difficult life, I heard from my mum. They were poor and hence, my mum, being the eldest, had to stop going to school after obtaining her o'levels. She was actually smart (she was in the Science stream) and could have gone on to even university but they just couldn't afford it and she had to start work.

Times were hard but they made it through. All 9 children got married and had children of their own.

When my grandparents were in their 70s, my grandmother had a stroke. She recovered but soon she suffered from another stroke that was so much worst. And soon, my grandfather lost another important woman in his life. . .

Anyway, my grandparents didn't have their own house because they sold their house and went travelling the world, but that's a whole other story.

Anyway, my grandfather stayed at a different child's house every week. Then as some problems arised and he got a few medical conditions, they decided to put him in the home opposite my house.

Last year is when I started noticing how skinny he had become and how miserable he looked, but I didn't think too much of it.

Apparently on New Year's Eve, this year, he stayed over at my uncle's house. When it was time for him to leave to go back to the home, he kept crying about being in pain and he even pissed in his pants. Sigh.

When I heard that, I felt so bad for him. I never realised his condition was so bad.

Few days ago (on a Sunday), he was experiencing shortness of breath and had a heartattack so he was rushed to the hospital, the nearest being KTP. His heart had actually stopped for a few minutes and he was actually considered dead but they resuscitated him without telling the family. Prior to this, my family had already made an agreement that if his heart should stop, they should not resuscitate him, but oh well, maybe God wanted him around a bit longer.

When I went to the hospital that night, he was unconscious. I saw all the tubes and seeing him lie there unmotionless was too much for me to handle and I broke down.

The next morning though (Monday morning), he regained consciousness and everything somehow seemed find. He was asking when he could go home and all. But my aunty did say he kept drifting in and out of sleep and talking to random invisible people.

On Thursday morning, around 7:30am, I woke up to get ready for school and was surprised that my mum was awake too. She was rushing to the hospital because my grandfather's condition was so bad. At 7:35am, I was notified in the whatsapp group I have with my cousins that he had passed away. Some of their parents were also rushing to the hospital, just like my mum, when they received the news.

I really feel so horrible that I never took the chance to properly spend time with Papa Harold. I was too busy with my own life and just now bothered at all. I also think one of the main reasons I didn't want to have much to do with him is because I kept hearing constant complaints and problems regarding him from my mum and all her siblings. This gave me such a bad impression of him while I was growing up. But I regret all that now. Life is short after all.

The last proper memory I had with him is off us playing bagar-bagar at NYE's. He was grumpy because he kept losing and the cards kept falling from his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~

Papa Harold, I hope you have found eternal life and happiness in heaven. I'm glad you're reunited with Mama Fin, your wife and true love, and your mum and all your other family. Try to be a bit less grumpy up there okay. And please reserve a seat for me at the bagar table up there. I'll join all of you when my time comes. I know I've never said this to you before but I love you, Papa.

R.I.P. Harold Aloysius Conceicao, Papa Harold.

See you in Paradise.

Btw, here's my crazily insane huge family. Took these photos on the day of the funeral cause it was the one time we were all at the same place at the same time.

The only 2 missing are Simeon (my brother) and Timmy, our 2 angels.

Btw, these are just my cousins.