It was a Friday evening. I just came home from work while my parents were talking with my aunt on our terrace, and my grandmother lays in her bed. Lola was diagnosed with fatty liver, kidney stones and ovarian cysts, among others. It all started when last June, her calves suddenly felt painful. After a few days of resting and taking some medicines, the pain subside but most of her veins became swollen and enlarged. For a couple of weeks, her mobility has been limited inside our home. She's never been sick like that.
I've been living with my grandmother since the day I was born. She is my second mother. Whenever my Mama is not around, I always have my Lola to take care of us. She wouldn't hesitate to do whatever she could: cook, clean the house, take care of us when our parents aren't around and mend our clothes; to name a few. We would always come to her whenever our clothes need repair. Her mother died just a few months after she was born. At a very young age, she already experienced an insurmountable amount of hardships. She used to tell us stories about the old days when they couldn't afford to buy milk, when they need to borrow money from anyone to pay for their living expenses and when they were satisfied with "pakumbo" (Filipino sweet made with coconut meat, boiled in thick sugar syrup) or "duhat" (java plum) as their dish. She always tells us to eat what is on the table and appreciate what we have because back in the day they didn't have that much.
I put my bag down, washed my hands and got my food to eat for dinner. My mother came into the kitchen looking defeated. She sat down in the chair across from mine and told us in detail how my grandmother's check-up went. I was already told of her initial diagnosis, but then, later that day they received the results that her ovarian cysts were cancerous.
CANCER.
The second I heard that word, my eyes immediately produced tears.
Lola got up from her bed to go to the comfort room. I hurried up eating because I couldn't mask a smiling face in front of her, even if I couldn't seem to swallow the food. I want to believe my grandmother can survive whatever comes her way. She's a very strong woman. She endured living more than twenty years with my grandfather who's an alcoholic. They would usually argue and fight over everything. And even after Lolo died, Lola continued working as a farmer for years. Some situations happened that led her to stop farming, and eventually forced her to stay at home to take care of my younger cousins.
I decided I couldn't go to work the next Monday knowing my Lola's condition. I watched her sleep that Sunday night, the first time she slept well in days. The next morning, she went to the hospital with my mother to have her blood taken for tests. I just woke up when they came back. While I was eating my breakfast, she sat in the corner chair of our kitchen eating a biscuit. We were talking about random things while we were both eating when suddenly she felt so dizzy. I almost panicked, unsure of what to do. Together with my brother, we supported her as she walked going to her bed but when we were halfway through--she suddenly collapsed. Thankfully, I was holding her and she fell right in my arms. She went unconscious for a few seconds, so I immediately called my uncle for help. When she gained consciousness she asked why I was crying for help, as if reassuring me that she was fine and there was no need to worry. She could've seen the blood drained from my face as I held her.
Lola barely has anything. She has always been looked down on because of her ignorance. She wasn't able to finish even her basic education. Aside from the fact that they don't have enough money, she's dictated that women were only supposed to get married. There's no use for her to enter school because she'll only stay at home, do chores and take care of the kids, they'd say. She can read or write sometimes, but even then it will take her a couple of minutes just to write her name. Despite that, I could say all her children and even grandchildren grew up well. I can still remember the proud smile she made when my mother told her that I passed the CPA Board Exam.
Days after the incident, she's been going back and forth to different hospitals for consultation. Her knees and her legs have been feeling weak and painful. We were telling her she could use an elder cane or wheelchair, but she doesn't want to. I can't leave her to stand or walk alone because I'm afraid she'll fall again, but she always insisted she can do it by herself. We also told her she could use an adult diaper at night so she doesn't have to go back and forth to the comfort room. She disagrees because she's not used to peeing just anywhere. There's this one Sunday night while my aunt is prepping her for sleep and some of the things that they would bring the next day for a consultation when she said she'll try to use a diaper. I was packing my things that night, so I checked on her afterwards. When I came near her, she said that she was now wearing a diaper and then smiled like it was the most absurd thing to do. It was a smile that brought me comfort, but at the same time made me worried. I smiled back at her to assure her that it's fine.
Lola never wants to make us worry. Even if she was so sick, she would usually say she was okay even if all of us knew she was not. She would never tell us what she feels unless we asked. Even up to her last days, she never gave us a hard time and she's always been worrisome of us.
Every week after that, I could sense that she was slowly drifting away. She couldn't eat that much. She couldn't swallow her food. She could barely sleep. Her body can't stand or sit for too long. Parts of her body were aching. She's already complaining about the number of pills she has to take regularly. She looks so fragile that I can't dare to touch her because I was afraid it would tear her skin. Still, I'm holding on to that tiny hope that she'll get better. Maybe not the same as before, but something more manageable. Something that could still allow her more years with us. I was praying to God to give us more time with my grandmother. I was telling Him I only spent a few years with my Lolo, my siblings and cousins weren't even alive when he died and that maybe He could consider adding those years to my grandmother instead.
Lola's faith has been unwavering. I was told there was a time when she said that she was ready to go if that's what God has planned for her. She doesn't want to suffer anymore, and she said she also doesn't want to be a burden to us. A couple of days after that, in front of me, she told our visitors she really just wants to die.
My heart aches. Knowing how resilient my Lola is, I know she wouldn't give up that easy. That could also mean that the amount of pain she's been fighting is morbid enough for her to wish she could just die.
Then on the night of August 22, I was at the dorm and is preparing to sleep when my sister called. I'm not expecting her to call, I thought she would just ask something. But then, I was told Lola is having a hard time breathing, and she was rushed to the hospital. My body went in shock. For the next few minutes, I don't know what to think and do. I'm not sure if I should go home that night, or if I could since there might be no bus on the way home already.
Then another call from my sister came. With a shaking voice, she told me my grandmother passed away. She never reached the hospital.
My mind literally went blank.
But my eyes and my heart immediately respond.
The news came in shock, she was fine when I leave for work that Monday morning. She could eat on her own, she could stand and walk by herself, and she could still talk to us if she wants to. Except for the pain she could practically live her normal life. I knew that day would come, but it all happened so fast. 
But then again, it was the answer to her prayers.
Lola, we miss you so much. It's been forty days since you've left us but the pain will remain forever. I know you can't read this, but I just want to share with the world how much you mean to us. We appreciate and thank you for everything you've done for us.
Up until now, I can't still fathom how I could never see, touch or talk to you again. But I'm very thankful for the 79 years of life that God has given you. I'm thankful that you're finally free from the pain. I'm grateful to have another Angel in Heaven.
Your memories will be cherished forever, Lola.
Love,
Your first granddaughter.
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