Saturday, September 28, 2013

A tribute to someone special

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"Taylor Edwards’ family might not be the closest-knit—everyone is a little too busy and overscheduled—but for the most part, they get along just fine. Then Taylor’s dad gets devastating news, and her parents decide that the family will spend one last summer all together at their old lake house in the Pocono Mountains.

Crammed into a place much smaller and more rustic than they are used to, they begin to get to know each other again. And Taylor discovers that the people she thought she had left behind haven’t actually gone anywhere. Her former best friend is still around, as is her first boyfriend…and he’s much cuter at seventeen than he was at twelve.

As the summer progresses and the Edwards become more of a family, they’re more aware than ever that they’re battling a ticking clock. Sometimes, though, there is just enough time to get a second chance—with family, with friends, and with love."

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I really enjoyed reading this book. I admit I'm not much of a sentimental person but this book really caught me at the ending. The affinity I had with Taylor as she grieves over the loss of her beloved father . He had painstakingly succumbed under the deadly and torturous disease of pancreatic cancer as Taylor observes how he becomes more frail time after time. Her story reminds me of my grandfather, how he used to come home with unique ballet tutus and ballet shoes (including a red one which I was extremely embarrassed to be the only one wearing it for ballet classes), how he ferried me home everyday after school, how he never failed to spank my butt jokingly, calling me a naughty girl affectionately before I left grandma's home, how he always brought me out to the furthest places just to try a bowl of steaming hot noodles he claimed were the best in the whole of Singapore. Most of all, I remember the glowing warmth in his calloused yet ever so encompassing hands that clasped mine as he lay in the hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit, each breath he took with with much labor, as if gasping for more oxygen to enter his lungs. Despite not being able to speak from the tube inserted through his mouth, his sparkling eyes seemed to tell me how much he loved me, how much he loved his children. How much he loved his family. He never inched as I hugged him in the hospital unlike his usual self, struggling to detach himself from all the cords that seemed to chain him to the stifling bed. 

This made me question the fine line between life and death. From bliss and delight over the birth of a new figure in the family, to that of despair and anguish over the loss of the presence of one in a family.  One can simply cross over to the other side so easily and quickly, and in an instance, he's gone. Yet the feeling of everlasting loss still lingers on after days, or weeks, or even years. 

He was one to enjoy life and one to leave this world without any regrets. He had seen enough of life, enjoyed enough of life and for one, he has definitely never ever regretted having us as his family. His frail yet reassuring voice as he professes this is something I will never forget.

Rest in peace grandpa. Even though I could not be with you in your last moments, I love you and always will. x


“A thousand moments that I had just taken for granted- mostly because I had assumed that there would be a thousand more.” – Morgan Matson

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