All of a sudden, I found myself unable to swallow my saliva. In fact, I'd forgotten how to breathe. With each passing second, my breathing became more irregular. What did she mean by "grandma is dead"? Was she referring to her grandma on her father's side?

"Ho-how do-do yo-ou kn-know she-she-s de-de-de-de... dead," I managed to reply, my voice quivering as I gulped, speaking to Celine on the phone. Just because she said grandma is dead, doesn't mean she actually is. Where's the evidence? It doesn’t even make sense; I just saw her this morning. There's no way she could be dead.

“GRANDPA! PLEASE COME TO THE HOSPITAL!” Celine's voice cracked as she cried so loudly that I could hear the echoes in the background through the phone call.

Moments later, I arrived at the hospital reception, where a female receptionist scrutinized my worn clothes and shoes. I hesitantly uttered my wife's unique name, along with the surname we shared, hoping against hope that her name wouldn't appear in the system, hoping they would say the exact words, 'this person isn’t at the hospital.'

“Ah, Yes! That patient is on the second floor but...”

The nurse's face then contorted into a frown. "Sadly, the patient passed away fifteen minutes ago.”

“Why?!” I replied hastily.

“Why? What is it you’re trying to ask, sir?” the receptionist asked with a perplexed expression.

“Why did she pass away? Who told her she can go? We were just cuddling in bed yesterday! She wasn’t ill or sick! In fact, she was extremely healthy, healthier than me. She never smoked in her life! Never drank! She always got monthly check-ups at her local GP! So tell me why she died?!” I began hyperventilating, veins bulging from my face as I flapped my gums at the innocent receptionist.

“Weren’t you informed how she passed away?” the receptionist replied.

“Huh? I just received a call from my granddaughter that she died, that’s it,” I responded.

“Well, according to our files relating to her death, she was hit by a truck,” the receptionist revealed.

“So some fool who couldn’t keep his eyes on the road killed my wife! Because my wife isn't silly enough to cross the road irresponsibly,” I lashed out.

“No, sir. That’s not what happened,” the receptionist said.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“There were witnesses who saw your wife defending a young girl who was being bullied on the streets by other girls. As she fought back for the victim, it escalated, and they accidentally pushed her onto the road. At that moment, a fast-coming truck hit her.”

“So my wife was killed! She didn’t just die, she was fricking killed! They killed my wife! They killed my heart, my one and only wife! Argh, God!” I exclaimed in anguish, tightening my chest and dropping to my knees. I beat my fists against the ground and bit down on my bottom lip so hard that it began to bleed.

“You’re so stupid! You’re so absolutely stupid! Didn’t I say I'll be your... be your...”

The nurses rushed towards me, stopping me from harming myself.

“Sir, I know this is hard, but you have to be strong! Your granddaughter is still waiting for you on the second floor! She needs you!”

“Granddaughter? Granddaughter?” I kept muttering to myself, my sorrowful mind clouded.

“Yes, your granddaughter! Isn’t her name Celine?”

“Celine, my wife?! She’s waiting for me upstairs?! She’s alive?!” I replied, feeling a sudden surge of relief coursing through my body.

“Not your wife, Celine. Your granddaughter, whom you also named Celine!”

“Oh my God! Celine! My baby girl Celine! Where is she! Take me to her now!”

As I was escorted by the receptionist, she led me to the second floor, right in front of the door where Celine and my wife were. I placed my hand on the doorknob and slightly twisted my wrist to the right, but I hesitated.

Suddenly, I felt a hand placed on my back. I turned to look and saw the receptionist, who mumbled, “You have to be strong for your granddaughter. You're all she's got, I heard from her.”

Hearing that, I finally opened the door and witnessed Celine on the floor, surrounded by her own pool of tears, and a body on the bed, its face covered with a white sheet. I didn’t need evidence to know that was my wife on that bed; the width and height of that body structure told me all I needed to know.

“Grandpa, what do I do? Grandma is gone now. I didn’t even get to say goodbye or tell her how much I love her,” Celine looked up at me with her red, exhausted eyes from crying.

“Grandma already knows how much you love her, Celine. You know that,” I said, rubbing her back.

“NO, SHE DOESN’T! She doesn’t know how much I love her steak and eggs, or how much I love it when she irons my clothes before she goes to work, or how much I love it when she kisses me goodnight even though I tell her I’m too grown for that, or how much I love it when she scolds me when I’m late coming back home from school because she’s worried and cares, and how much I love her for beating those stinking bullies! That made my day! I should have told her all of those!”

Automatically, I began pulling my head in frustration, rage, despair, and sadness, overwhelmed by all sorts of negative emotions. Be strong for my Celine? HOW THE HELL AM I MEANT TO DO THAT! I don’t care if they’re underage, I’m going to—

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“Ah-hem Sir, there’s someone who would like to see the both of you,” the receptionist interrupted.

“Huh?”

I turned around to see a young girl who looked to be the same age as Celine, wearing the same school uniform as her.

“Katherine?” Celine blurted out.

Not even realizing, Katherine appeared to have been crying. Suddenly, she bowed down out of the blue, catching both me and my granddaughter off guard.

“What’s going on?” I said, while Celine added, “Katherine, what are you doing?”

“YOUR GRANDMA AND YOUR WIFE IS MY HERO!” Katherine blurted out suddenly.

“Hero?” I exclaimed, turning to Celine, who seemed just as puzzled as I was.

A police officer stepped in, placing his arm on Katherine's shoulder, while he took off his hat and placed it on his chest as a sign of respect.

“Katherine was the victim whom your grandma was protecting against the bullies. Apparently, those bullies have been tormenting her for some time, and they tried to follow her home to cause more trouble. That’s when your grandma walked past them,” the police officer explained.

“Grandma?” Celine uttered, wiping her tears but finding them still pouring out.

“I didn’t want it to escalate or get others involved, so while the bullies were following me, I tried to play it cool and even led them in a direction away from my house. But with one glance at my face, your grandma approached me and asked if everything was alright. In that moment, I couldn’t hold back the tears, and they came bursting out as I was scared! I was wondering if I would ever make it home, why these girls kept following me. She told me that her granddaughter goes to the same school as me and she prays that I become friends with her,” Katherine said, breaking down in tears as she recalled the memories, her eyes closed.

“What were my wife's last words?” I asked, my tongue trembling with hope that, in some weird way, she was happy.

“Last words... your wife was awesome! Immediately, she comforted me, then she jumped on top of one of the girls and began bashing her face in. The girl was begging for help, but when the other girl tried to get involved, she got her in a headlock with one arm while the other arm continued bashing the other girl's head in. Her face was so bashed in that she looked like a man with plastic surgery. Your grandma was so cool! So cool! Her last words were something like, ‘Because of you bullies, call me Bat-Grandma! I’ll protect the weak from you scoundrels!’” Katherine said with passion, tears streaming down her face.

Instantly, both Celine and I began cracking up hysterically, catching Katherine, the police officer, and the receptionist off guard.

“Bat-Grandma?! That is so cringe!” Celine said between laughs, her grieving tears transitioning to tears of laughter.

“That is so like her! She never thinks before she acts, she’s always irrational, emotional, impulsive, but those are my favorite traits I love about her!” I added between bouts of laughter.

“Hey Grandpa, what made you want to marry a crazy woman like grandma? I don’t know how you'd find something like that attractive!” Celine continued to laugh, holding her ribcage as the tears kept flowing.

“Ask me again, my granddaughter! Ask me again!” I said, trying to cover my mouth to reduce the volume of my laughter, but it wouldn’t decrease.

“Uh, is everything fine with you guys?” the police officer asked us, concern evident in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.

“I-I don’t understand? How could you guys laugh in a time like this? You've just lost someone who's precious to you?” Katherine said, perplexed.

Momentarily, Celine and I paused our laughter, looking at each other, already knowing what's inside each other's minds. Then, we looked at Katherine and responded, “Because that's the grandma we know and love!”

Katherine didn’t seem to fully understand our answer, since it was an inside joke between me and my granddaughter, but she introduced a warm smile on her face at least, as she wiped her tears.

Celine then got up and approached Katherine, holding her hands up for a handshake. “I guess we shouldn’t let my grandma’s prayers go in vain, right?” Katherine reciprocated the energy as she shook my granddaughter's hand. “Yup!” Celine nodded, looking happy to have made a friend out of my daughter.

A week has passed since the death of my wife, and Celine and I are currently standing by her tombstone. I don't know if it's because we're both wearing tracksuits that we feel out of place in a cemetery, but for my silly wife, she was never one to care about dress codes. She'd wear anything anywhere, not caring about a damn thing.

As I gaze at her tombstone, adorned with her full name and the dates of her birth and death, I feel a hand intertwining with mine, tightening with warmth and comfort. It gives off the same vibe as my wife, Celine... it still hurts... I wish I could hear her voice one more time. Maybe if I call out her name, I'll probably be able to hear her spirit.

Nah, that's stupid. Once you're dead, you're dead.

...

"Celine," I mutter under my breath, hoping against hope that this wish could defy the laws of logic and understanding, for some reason having a weird faith that I can actually hear my wife.

"Yes?"

Huh?! Did she just reply to me? Is that even allowed?! I look over my shoulder to where the response is coming from. "Celine, is that your voice?!"

"Of course it is, silly," Celine, my granddaughter, replies, giggling at my seemingly nonsensical question, which wasn't even meant for her to answer.

What's going on with me? For a moment, I genuinely forgot that Celine was even next to me. There's no better word to describe it than forgetting that she even existed for a split second.

I place my hand on my head, feeling like I'm getting exhausted.

"You good, Grandpa?" Celine asks, her worry evident in the palm of her hands.

"Yeah, I think I still haven’t fully processed your grandmother’s death," I say to reassure her.

"Yeah, me too," Celine sighs.

"So, you've stopped crying, huh?" I ask.

"Well, always crying isn’t going to bring her back, so I might as well fulfill the rest of her will," Celine says with a determined expression.

"She has a will? Since when? How much money did she leave us?" I ask in shock and confusion.

"No, not that sort of will, silly! I’m talking about the will to carry on her mantle of beating up bullies! I’m going to be the granddaughter of 'Bat-Grandma!' What do you think of the name 'Bat-Granddaughter'?" Celine plunges her fist into her palm, gritting her teeth in a badass smile.

"You could probably work on the name; it's a bit long. But yeah, I like the idea of you carrying on that sort of mantle," I say to her.

"Really? I thought you'd be against me fighting other people, which could put me in danger," Celine replies, sounding pleased.

"Nah, because you're not going to do it alone. This time, I promise to actually be your Robin."

Immediately, Celine's expression turns to one of mild discomfort. "Actually, Grandpa, I think it'd be weird for an old man like you to follow me to beat up little girls."

Shit. She’s right.

Suddenly, I crouched to Celine’s eye level, holding onto both of her shoulders. She was startled a bit. “What are you doing, Grandpa?” she replied nervously.

“Then if I can’t be your Robin, I’ll be your Albert, so that anytime you come back home injured or hurt, I’ll always be there to listen and patch you up for another day! Doesn’t that sound much less creepy?” I replied, giving a dashing smile.

Celine jumped into my arms, embracing me with a hug as she liked the sound of that. “Never forget that promise, Grandpa! I’ll take your word on that!”

For some reason, my granddaughter’s voice began to fade away slowly. I was getting a sense of vibe that this might be the last time I’ll ever hear this familiar voice, but why?