My grandfather died this morning at 5.35am. just the same time i woke up to send my brother to sch. i wished i was there, yet somehow, i wished i wasn't either. he died of lung cancer and numonia (how the hell you spell it). i guess, it was better that he went. between the time i last saw him, which was a short space of one month, his condition deteorreoriated so quickly. he looked so gaunt, can't eat, can't talk, can't recognise anyone. the only people he recognised were my brother and ii rushed down to the hospital yesterday after school and from the moment he saw me and my brother he kept mumuring my name and my brother's and kept holding onto to our hands. my brother's hand in his right hand, and mine in his left. i had never been so close to a dying man before. my dad called father michael over to give the old man his last rites and halfway during the prayers my grandfather started crying, and despite his weakness, i felt him cross his fingers in mine whenever it was time to say "amen". he was concious and repentent yet weak and unable to respond. i've never encountered something like that before and honestly, it's scaring the shits out of me. my last words to him before i left for home from the hospital were "Bye grandpa, i have to go home now. i'll see you tomorrow. you'll be ok."
he made some noise but his eyes were staring unfocused at the ceiling. i'm not going to school tomorrow. and i can't write no more.
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