My grandmother was diagnosed with lung cancer a month or so back, and she is in the last stage. Being too advanced in age, she cannot undergo chemotherapy. The doctor estimates that she has but a few scarce months left in this world.

I just visited her this afternoon at my aunt's place in Woodlands, where she is currently staying. She was sleeping when I was there, in her hospital-like adjustable bed with side railings, oxygen tubes running from her nostrils, connected to this whirling, humming, oxygen machine. My parents, uncles and aunts are doing everything possible to make her final days as comfortable as possible. My mom is by her side almost everyday, my aunts take turns preparing her meals, which has to be 100% organically based, and there are the supplements and medicine as well to tend to. My dad and uncles, working on the same rotational basis, keep vigil by her side throughout the night. For me, I try to be there as much as possible. But it is easier said then done, with me having to contend with my national service commitments.

Evidently, it is rather tough on everyone, having to see a loved one faltering and growing weaker with each passing day. It pains me to see how frail my grandma is now, she is so hopelessly weak, and sedated most of the time from the morphine. She is but a pale flickering shadow of her old, jovial self. It also makes me sad to see my grandfather, the free-wheeling gung-ho adventurer, downcast and floundering so helplessly by her bedside. 

On a slightly brighter note, it is heart-warming to witness how attentive, committed and loving everyone is to my grandmother in her time of need. It comes as no surprise, as my grandma is, without the slightest doubt, one of the most pleasant and lovable person ever to grace this world. I have never heard my grandma raise her voice, get angry or even appear flustered. She never curses, never complains about anything, never utters a single ill-meant word about anyone. She is kind, scrupulous, impartial, giving, helpful, graceful, polite and so easy-going. She loves me a terribly lot, even though we do not have much in common. In fact, she loves all of us, and with that ever-present smile of hers, she simply radiates happiness. 

I will most definitely miss her when she is gone. I am under no false illusions that she would miraculously recover fully and live to see me get married and have kids. I just want to ensure that she will be able to move on peacefully and painlessly, and to have the entire family by her side in her final moments.