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I never made a promise, ever since my granddad passed away from his injury that he get from falling off the roof while he's trying to fix 'em.
That time, he was taken to hospital immediately.
He got some surgery, but for someone his age, he really scared on going through the surgery.
He refused the operation.
He kept struggling during the operation.
The suture became opened.
So, the wound on his lower right chest being left open.
His lung was taken one, because his ribs stabbed through his right lung.
He survived with one lung and opened wounds for almost a year.
I came to visit him.
I was still in my junior high years back then.
It actually a coincidence that I got that chance to visit him with mom.
That year, 1999, is just one year away from the riot in 1998.
So, my family's financial condition is still unstable, since we've lost our house and everything we had in the riot.
So, I was afraid when I see him.
My granddad, lying in the bed with my grandma sitting next to him.
He was so thin.
Unlike my granddad I used to remember.
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He used to feed his birds while I look in a close attention on how he did it.
He took me around the Surabaya city riding on his bike at night.
We went seeing the flower market with all the sweet scents and night view.
And I really enjoy that... I do.
He loved to kiss me.
When he kissed me, I used to refuse him.
Because he haven't shaved and his beard felt like a grater board.
Later on that day, he shaved his beard and he kissed me again.
And then he asked me, "How is it now? Is is still rough and scratchy?"
And I said, "Naw, you could kiss me again... hehehe."
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My Granddad doesn't speak much in his illness.
Grandma gave us the explanation, on how it happened, when, and what surgery, and what medication he has taken.
She showed us the wound.
His lower right chest is covered with a palm-sized bandage.
My grandma opened the bandage, showing an open wound.
An incision about 10cm long and opened about 3 or 4 cm wide.
It's red.
I feel so awkward.
I don't know what to say to him or what to do.
I started to talk to him, but I feel so bad talking to him since he had a hard time breathing and speaking but I still trying to talk to him.
Because I know, even if I don't speak, he would speak to me first.
Asking how I was doing while all I can do is sitting next to him unable to do anything.
Mom asked him to finished the surgery, everybody did the same.
He refused, crying, begging he didn't want to go back to the surgery room.
While I beg to God to save his life.
After a few days, I had to go home.
And the last thing I said to him is, "Grampa, please be healthy again. I promise I'll come to visit you again, okay?"
He just nod and said yes in whispers.
I feel so terrible when I left.
After we got home, grandma kept informed us about granddad's progress.
Sometime he's good, sometime he's not.
She said, he now accepting Jesus wholefully.
They prayed and praise together for his recovery.
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He used to be ignorant to Him.
My granddad was a night expedition truck driver.
He used to be an unfaithful husband.
He loved to play around with girls.
Even my grandma said, when she labour with on of his child, he's not there.
She was dying after the labour process she said, she remembers crows are gathering on the roof.
She knew because she listened to the bird's noise.
She survived though.
She always said she was taken for granted.
And their marriage was not based on love.
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But, he's still my granddad.
And I love him.
I think I never had that chance to realize my promise, because a few month after my visit, my grandma called.
He died.
I'm... blank.
All I can think of, I still owe him a visit... why did he go?
And I mourned and so on and so on.
I didn't go to his funeral.
Since I'm in the middle of my final tests and mom couldn't afford another ticket.
She went there by plane.
It worth 500k back then, so expensive. It caused quite a quarrel between my parents.
My dad won't allow Mom to go.
Mom insisted, it was her dad, after all.
So with or without permission from dad, she went alone.
After that, I never made promise.
Thankfully, no one asked me to promise either.
Not yet.
It's not that I hate to promise, no.
What fear me the most is that when I made one, then later I don't get the chance to realize it.
It hurts, almost a burden. :(
Like an unpaid debt.
I know he wouldn't mind, but I feel obligated.
I wet my eyes a bit while writing this.
I do hope He kept him somewhere safe.
I just want him to know that I love him, and I miss him too.
Still wondering how would it be if he still alive nowadays... :P
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