About a week ago, ok two weeks ago… (Sept 7) I saw my grandpa for the last time. He was dying. We all knew that. But we didn’t know that he’d be gone the next afternoon.

It was at 9pm in the dark halls. He was heavily drugged, sedated. Although he could almost open his eyes, his eyes were rolling back. Hovering between the lands of the dead and the living.

He had been sick since February but it was only the last month that things quickly went downhill. But he had already came to terms of it. In a way, it seemed he had sort of willed death to come. As if he had submitted to the dying of the light. Not rage. Acceptance.

When given time to, most people when faced with death will accept it.

I’m scared of death. I will admit it. What is it like not living?

But like many artists I’m intrigued.

At the End

peering into life
ready for the other side
just another door

unfeeling
when all the images fade
the sounds quieten
all the feeling numbs
unscented and tasteless

eternity

I don’t know. I wasn’t that close to him although I did knew him fairly well. He was like the jester. I guess he’s the first person that I’ve actually knew to have died.

But it was quick. 7 months. It takes less time to have a baby.

PS: Honestly, I’m kind of afraid of his possible ghost. He’s was the guy that got kids to touch that bug zapper (which looks like a racket). Of course he’ll go boo!!