talking to my dad about the death of my grandpa almost 11 years ago today made me realise again how to love someone is to set him/her free.

i knew that my grandpa died when i was in Primary 3 from lung cancer. i knew that only a year elapsed between the time he was still scolding us grandchildren for blocking his view of the television and fit enough to take us out to the nearby park to run around and the time when he was suddenly diagnosed with cancer and very quickly wasted away in front of our eyes.

our grandpa didn't scold us anymore, for wanting to watch Captain Planet while he was watching his teletext - he just didn't watch teletext anymore. our grandpa didn't potter around the garden watering his precious collection of orchirds twice a day anymore. he just lay upstairs coughing and we weren't allowed to go upstairs to play anymore cos "kongkong is sick, so don't disturb him".

my dad told me that when my grandpa died, he was surrounded by all his 9 children and his wife - my aunts, uncles, and my grandma. they were saying the rosary when he passed away in his sleep. that, i knew. but what i didn't know till today was that my grandpa stopped breathing several times that night - but everytime one of his children or his wife touched him, he started breathing again. this went on for many times until the doctor on duty gently told my aunts, uncles, and grandma to stop touching him, to let him go.

and so, they did - and the last time my grandpa stopped breathing, no one touched him and he didn't resume his breathing again. and he died.

when my dad was telling us this over lunch today, i asked him why my grandpa resumed his breathing everytime someone touched him. and my dad told me that my grandpa wanted to die, he wanted to just slip off back to his Father in heaven cos the pain from the cancer was so bad. and so, cos he was more than ready to leave this world, he could stop his breathing peacefully. but, the moment one of his children or his wife touched him, he made himself begin his breathing again, forced himself to labouriously and painfully suck air into his lungs again so that he could stay alive for them. those touches from his loved ones were telling him "dad, don't go yet. we need you.", and so, he struggled to stay on for these touches.

the doctor observing this must have known my grandpa wanted to die, and was only willing himself to stay alive for those extra hours for his children who couldn't let him go, who kept touching him to tell him that they still needed him around.

and they all had to let him go, in the end. they had to force themselves to stop reaching out for their dad when he stopped breathing, knowing that by not touching him anymore, he'd allow himself to pass on. it must have hurt like hell for my dad to not reach out to his own dad, touching him and seeing him come back to life again (sort of), seeing his chest heave painfully but knowing that he was still alive. it must have been so painful, so difficult for my grandma and all my aunts and uncles to let go of the man they loved so much, to stop themselves from reaching out to him, to let him go.

they loved him, that much i'm certain of. my dad certainly loved my grandfather tremendously - he was tearing as he told us of my grandpa's last moments today. my grandfather doted on all of us older grandchildren, playing our games with us and taking us out to the nearby playground. both sets of grandparents brought my sister and i up in our younger years. my own parents would send us both to my grandparents' house in the morning before work and pick us up after work and after having dinner there. we got ready for school from my grandparents' house, ate all our meals there, took our afternoon naps there, played with all our cousins (whose parents did the same thing) there.

and you know how we're always told that if you love someone, you have to let him/her go, so much so that it's become a cliche?

it's true, though.

letting go of the one you love will hurt like hell, will be so difficult that you wonder why on earth you're putting yourself through the torture, and will elicit more than a few drops of tears from your eyes. the example of my dad, my aunts and uncle, and my grandma having to let go of my grandpa to death may be an extreme one, but it really made me realise how true that statement is. all the little loves i've had to let go, what are they compared to having to let go of your loved one to the grip of death? knowing you'll never get to talk to him/her again in this lifetime if you let him/her go, how do you do it?

i guess i can see this in the choices i've made in my own life. by choosing certain paths to take, i'm letting go of other possibilities, other people i've loved - and at the same time, because i love too. knowing certain choices i make may mean certain finalities does entail a 'letting go' on my part. when you let someone go, you don't do it with the hope in your heart that he/she will eventually come back to you one day. you just set him/her free, almost as if you're saying goodbye forever, without any expectation. with that expectation tied to the letting go, it's not really setting the person free, is it? how can it be, with all the conditions tied to the action of 'letting go'?

i acknowledge the wisdom in embracing the present and not wallowing in the past. i acknowledge the wisdom in not crying over spilt milk and instead, picking yourself up and forcing yourself to move on with life.

but sometimes, i must admit i still do wonder - at what cost will my compartmentalization of my past, present and future come at? at what cost will my act of willing myself to go on with life and not get lost in the past come at? or is there even a cost at all?

i love, so i set free. i love, so i let go.


Rachael Yamagata's I Wish You Love says it very nicely, i think.

i wish you bluebirds in spring
to give your heart a song to sing
and then, a kiss,
- but more than this:
i wish you love.
& in July, a lemonade
to cool you in some leafy glade
i wish you health
& more than wealth,
i wish you love.
my breaking heart & i agree
that you & i could never be
so with my best,
my very best
i set you free.
i wish you shelter from the storm
a cosy fire to keep you warm
but most of all,
when snowflakes fall,
i wish you love.