I'll have you to miss

I wanted to update on Linkin Park but I haven't got the mood to somehow, knowing that there are bigger things in my life to reflect on. This afternoon at about 2 plus pm Sharon the nurse from the Hospice and another unfamiliar looking doctor came over to check on my grandpa. They did the usual check-up, asking the routine questions, like what medication he's on now, does he uriniate or pass motion, does he have vomiting tendencies, does he eat, etc, etc. I was there standing in the middle of the room answering the questions, and at times translating the questions to my grandma who knows better, and then translating them back to the doctor and the nurse. At one point, Sharon the nurse called out to my grandpa loudly, and his eyes shifted to her direction, and she commented on how he can still respond to our calls. I felt proud of my grandpa then, cos I realised then how much of a fighter he's been, how brave he's been to bear all this pain, with very minimal wincing and shouts. How despite the toll of this liver cancer on him, he has remained so strong and fought back. 3 months ago, on the 13th of August, the very first day of school for this sem, we received the crushing news of my grandpa's condition. That day, the doctor who spoke to my aunt gave my grandpa a time period of 3 months at most. Today, its the 16th of nov, 3 days past the 3 months period, and the doctor who came over today when asked by my grandmother, gave my grandpa at most another 4 days to live. Whats it with these numbers? Its like stamping this 'Best before' date on him. First 3 months, now 4 more days, soon it'll be hours. Time catches up so much it makes me want to cry. I've been so busy with school, my attention's been taken up mostly by the endless assignments and presentations, and now I've left like this sick child with a small heart, the size of a baby's palm, worried crushed, anxious. I don't want to lose my grandpa, I don't want to imagine how life will be later, without him. Hani always said she admires my courage and my ability to cope with things, but today I think I finally realise the reason behind this apparent ease of 'coping' with this tragic ordeal. I've just tried to push it away from my mind, never really seriously considering the possibility of my grandpa gone. Everytime I'm with him, I either cry or I end up feeling slightly irritated by his incessant requests for me to scratch his back. Oh God, I don;t knwo if I can even continue typing this. I remember that as a child, I would frequently pray for Allah to take my grandmother,mother and me together should the time come for one of us to go, simply because I didn;t want anyone of us to have to bear the pain of losing the other, maybe I should have included my grandpa in those prayers. But I guess it was the natural thing to do since as a child I've grown up only with my grandma and mum. I don't blame myself of course for anything, its just that this pain of losing someone you love so much is terrible. I've always admired people who have managed to get their lives back on track after losing someone so dear, and time has come for me to do the same. I want to cry my eyes out, I want to reminisce on all the many memories I have of my grandpa, the man who has always been selfless when it concerns his family. He sacrificed as a man right up to his early 70s when he was still a security guard at the Singapore Cricket Club. He'd tell us those Sang Kanchil, Momo Taro stories repeatedly starting with the same unfaltered enthusiasm as if we were hearing it for the first time, relate his endless painful memories during WW2 when he was oftentimes abused for looking too much like an Eurasian. Life was tough for my grandfather, but he stuck through all of that, managing to raise a family who will forever be indebted to him.
If there's anything I'm happy about though, its the fact that I have constantly reminded my grandpa of my love for him, and how I will strive to make him proud and how he ought to be proud for having truly lived his life, whose success ought to only be measured not by the mass of wealth accumulated but by the number of people who'd miss him when he's no longer around.
Okay, I believe that this ordeal will leave me a changed person, Inshaallah for the better. I'm imagining myself in Germany next year doing my exchange program, looking both forlorn and wise, carrying this past in my heart, and having to bear that feeling of missing him endlessly but knowing that he'll still be with me every step of the way.
I feel like changing my life completely, be the better person I've always wanted to be, disciplined, more in touch with Islam, humble, the quiet achiever who's aware of herself in all that she does and decides. Inshaallah. Allah, guide me through this and thank you for having blessed me with an angel for a grandfather.