I need a different now Where we can wear each other for awhile I'll lend you my tears if I can borrow your smile We'll get through tomorrow somehow

I have been thinking about a lot of things lately. Maybe it is this time of year that brings with it a reflection of the events of the past months and of life in general. When I think it's almost like being at one with your body and looking outwards to something at the same time. I know it probably doesn't make sense to many. But this is what happens to me. It's funny b/c when i see other people doing this, I know exactly what it is. My mom does the same thing. Last week at work, I was at the sink and this lady said to me, you look like you are somewhere far away. She was right. In that moment, it's hard to explain to someone where you actually are because I wonder if they understand and I wonder if they would really want to know?

The truth is, I have been thinking a lot about my Grandparents lately, reflecting on my memories of them, and missing them. They came to Canada twice and lived with us for a short period of time. Once when I was in grade three and once when i was in grade 12. Little did I know about the circumstances under which I would see them again. It was in 1997 at my Grandma's funeral in Fiji, where I would see my Grandpa again. He didn't even recognize who I was because he was very ill. I probably looked very different to him. He looked very different to me. He was so small and frail, so unlike the way I remembered him. He had been very sick and had been given wrong medication for his illness. He was being taken to the hospital in the ambulance and my Grandma accompanied him. She was the one who died unexpectedly by the time they got to the hospital. Ironic-- she would talk about how she would want to die before my Grandpa because she felt like it would be too hard to live without him. It was a shock to all of us when she went. When they finally told my Grandpa in the hospital that she was gone, he said that he already knew. They have such an interesting love story of how they met and lived and one day I will definitely write about it.

I remember this one night that I asked God that if he wanted to take my Grandpa too that it would be okay if he wanted to go. I think that was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in life. I was trying to be selfless and I thought it shouldn't really matter what is more bearable to me, because I still had life to live and my Grandpa deserved the quality of life that he had lived for, so maybe if I acknowledged that, then something good would come to him. I just didn't want him to suffer. I loved him so much. He was my mom's idol. Yes, she idolized him and in her eyes he could do no wrong, even though he had his faults just like anyone else did. He was a very loving man, I saw it in the way he treated others, very soft and kind.

He got better and stronger throughout the funeral and everything else that was going on during that time. I did get a chance to get to know him again and bond with him. I have this memory of standing in front of my Grandpa who was sitting down and telling him that I was going to put socks on his feet because it was cold. And then I did. I know it may sound strange, but this memory is so vivid for me because I felt like it was one thing I could do to take care of him. I hope he knew how loved he was at that time. Because I sure did.

It was during this moment in time that I truly learned what loving and being loved was all about. I had always been afraid of it, running from it in one way or another, or not really understanding my responsibility in it. The day I said goodbye to my Grandpa to come home, was the day that I realized the depth of my capacity to love. After I came home from that trip, my life changed forever. I just began doing things better, more accurately, putting more of myself into the things I did. It is hard to explain in words. But it was a kind of taking stock in life and letting go of the unhealthy and starting the path towards the things I really wanted. It was the beginning of a transition. Three years later, my Grandpa died, and it was right before I would be starting yet another significant moment in life that I had worked so hard to attain in the previous three years. The cycle of death and birth/rebirth is amazing. It's a testimony to how we are all connected.

I wish that I had more time with my Grandparents. I hope they know how much I love them and how even though I didn't have them in my life as much as I would have liked, they were important to me and did something greater for me than they (or I) could understand. And I think knowing that makes missing them more bearable.