I took his hand in mine

Recently I had learnt that my grandad's sister's husband (Richard Ho's father) is terminally ill with cancer, staying at the hospice in Royal Quay area. Originally I wanted to go down on Tuesday 17th October, but the cost was too great just for one person. Then on Wednesday after the service, I asked my grandparents and Dns Phoebe to see if they would like to go down with me. Thank God they also had the desire to see my grand-uncle before he departs.

Once I had reached the hospice, I had to borrow my grandmother's walking stick to support my injured leg's journey to my grand-uncle's room. Eventually on arrival, I saw my uncle. He looked healthy though thin. He managed to slowly swallow almost a whole bowl of congee lovingly fed to him by his wife. After prayer, I took his hand in mine.

This uncle was special. He saw me grow up. But I also saw him grow old. When I was young, we would have family opportunities to see each other. From Hong Kong to UK. I would identify him as the uncle with the missing finger.

When I held his hand in mine, it hit me it would probably be the last time that I would hold it. Soon he will sleep and rest physically. I held it almost in tears. I went out of the room. His wife, my grand-auntie walking beside me. I held her close to me. I encouraged her. She's a strong woman. She would learn to live it through I said to myself.

It was a blessing for me to take his hand in mine.