The previous post were dedicated to my old friend for his death, and this, for the same topic, for my grandfather. I have to say that it was better for him to leave than making him live on a bed. Its been years that he's in and out of the ICU. And I couldn't recall when was the last time I conversed with him that he understood me well.

I still have memories with him, even there's not much left in my brain that I can talk about. The most prominent in my head would be on Sunday afternoons. Dad would bring us over to visit our grandparents weekly, I never had a choice, I go wherever my parents bring me. The whole house would smell like tea leaves because all grandpa does is drink tea. He had this white and blue traditional Chinese tea set, and the cups so small that he could be pouring the tea for the whole day and the teapot will still be filled.

He will pour us a cup while dad was talking to him. Then he picks up a biscuit and slowly move it toward his mouth. The motions slow and shaky. The process repeats every visit.

He was already very old at that point. Since the day we moved, we seldom meet him even though dad would still drop by every week. We totally stopped visiting when we went to Singapore. Once in a while dad would bring us when we come back to Bangkok, but by then, he couldn't understand what we were talking about, and forgotten who we were. He only remembered my father.

This year he turns 98. Coming near a hundred, thats incredible. You do not feel sorry for someone who lived that long. Yes, we do feel sad, but death is part and parcel of life. Most of us have prepared for this day, and were not quite surprised that his breath weakens and his heart stopped.

Hopefully grandpa met grandma by now.