At the last stop

I find myself crying after learning that my 96 year old grandmother is now in the hospital. Apparently, a small benign tumor transformed itself into something malignant and has spread to her lungs.

I cry not because of fond memories of which there were few. I cry because at the end of her days, she was not complaining of the pain because she did not want her son, my father to worry. I cry because of the attitude that money becomes more important than life that we tend to look at health issues as burdens. I cry because finally my mother is finding peace with her mother-in-law who she thinks deserves the best care now at this stage. And most of all I cry for not being at home, for not being able to help at all, for being useless, for wasting all opportunities, for not having realized earlier that the elderly deserved time and respect aside from love and care. 

Like the dutiful grandchild, I pray that it will be easy when it comes. For now, I thank God for giving me this chance to think.