I'm in muar, malaysia. Our first stop was the hospital before we actually went home. My grandma looks so fragile. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not family oriented at all. Always wanted to run as far away from them and live my own life. But, to my own shock, I cried the moment I saw her. I don't think my brother or my cousin realised though. Silent cries. Sigh. But she seemed so weak. It seemed like she was fighting for every deep breath. And it's like, with every deep breath she took, I'm reminded of memories of her. The picture she took wearing shades and smoking, the knowing look she had in her face when she talked to me after i stole money from my mom to buy tamiya, when she would speak english and act like she can speak it well, when she gave me 50 ringgit, and tell me its to pay for university. All those memories, accompanied by laughter, admiration and regret. I'm sorry I never talked to you much when I visited. I hope you'll get better. My grandma's so strong. 90++ and still fighting. I only hope she has the will to be stronger. I only pray for more fighting breaths in her. Each breath for each memory. and God please, if you grant her more of those breaths, I'll try to have more memories of her. If I could, I'd offer you some of my years. If you can, please take it. Be well grandma. Live to a hundred.

I rambled rambled rambled at 1:55 AM