My grandmother lived for 94 years, experiencing wars and four reigns of Thailand.

Year after year, our entire family—over a dozen of us—gathered at Grandma's house to share meals during ceremonies, holidays, and birthdays. It was certainly more than a hundred gatherings that she graced us with.

She was always there with us from the moment we entered this world. You could even say that our earliest memories began with her presence.

She lived so long that we sometimes thought she would live forever. Even in her final year, she remained healthy enough to smile, talk, and navigate her days—until she could not anymore.

The reality struck us: no one can live forever, no matter how much we wish for it.

She was always calm and collected, yet her presence radiated warmth that made us feel safe and comfortable.

Most importantly, she was a fighter. The doctors told us she had less than a month to live, yet she gifted us two whole months to be with her and process our grief—a testament to her strength.

Though her absence has left a significant void in our hearts, it comforts us to know that she did not suffer much in her final moments. Now, she can rest peacefully after a long, well-lived life.

As descendants of Chinese heritage, we held a traditional Chinese funeral ceremony. We walked her soul to heaven ourselves and burned essential items for her use in the afterlife. We also buried her alongside Grandpa, who passed away a decade ago, so now she can finally enjoy eternal peace with the love of her life.

This is not a forever goodbye; we will visit her every year as part of The Qingming Festival. However, it is undoubtedly one of the hardest goodbyes we have ever faced together.

Although, sadly, the journey back to Grandma's house together as a family will no longer include her physical presence, we still find joy in being together. The atmosphere remains filled with warmth from the bond that Grandpa and Grandma created for us, just as before. We continue to chat and laugh, looking at each other with happiness. We can see old memories overlapping with new stories being created in every moment we spend together in the room where we have always shared meals.

I believe this is what people mean when they talk about leaving a legacy behind: when what you’ve done becomes the norm and the way you loved becomes second nature to those who remain. There’s no need for grand gestures or eloquent speeches—just pure habits lingering like a perfume that never fades away.

This is what grandma left us: 
Her way of life.  

And I’m so grateful for it. We all are.

With what you taught us, I’m sure we will be okay, no matter how difficult it may be. The lives we shared will remain with us until our own last breaths. And the love will continue to persevere, and your legacy will thrive through our way of life. No one is truly gone as long as someone remembers them, and we all plan to remember you for the rest of our lives.

So may you rest in peace. Don’t worry about us; we will meet again soon enough.

Grandma is dying; there’s no way around it. She’s already 94 years old, so no one is surprised, and we’ve all been preparing for it in our own ways for a long time. Still, when the doctor said she had less than a month, putting a definite deadline on something we were too scared to think about, it made us realize that it’s really happening and not just some arbitrary prediction anymore.

Sitting in a hospital room together, sharing our silent grief, puts things into perspective. This is truly the most important thing we all face together as a family. We might not grieve in the same way, but we’re all grieving together. All those interactions that seemed trivial before have become more meaningful than ever. Though we didn’t say much, we felt closer than ever before. We can even notice each other’s pain through even the tiniest expressions.

I'm not sure how long we’ll get to sit together like this, but I’ll cherish every smile and tear I saw today and every day after until her time comes. I’d hate to see her go, but I know it’s for the best. And I know I don’t have to bear the grief alone because we’re all sharing the pain.

The only thing I wish for her is that she could remember all of us—the grief, the love, and the memories as a family—in her final moments, ensuring she’s not alone in her journey. She’s lived a long life; it’d seem hard to remember everything, but I want her to remember that she’s always loved by everyone around her. I truly hope she will take our shared love in this family with her last breath.

We’re in this together, and we’ll get through this together. But most importantly, this family will keep her in our hearts forever.

So, I tried bullet journaling in 2022 and then evolved into my own system mixing both analog and digital tools. But this year? I fell off the planning wagon hard. Like, barely-planned-a-thing hard.

Here are the lessons I learned from my epic planning fail:

1. Too much on my plate: Digital tools let me add infinite tasks, which is a recipe for overload.
2. Guilt trip: Seeing unfinished tasks made me feel paralyzed. I knew I couldn’t finish them in time but didn’t want to erase them either.
3. Out of sight, out of mind: Planning is pointless if you forget to look at your plan. I always forget to check my task manager and then my notebook planner of choice.

Tasks vs. life experiences: I collected tasks more than memories, when it should be the other way around.

So, for the rest of this year, I'm starting fresh with a new setup using just three tools: Weekly Planner, Memo Pad, and Reminders App.

Weekly Planner

I use Kinbor, the budget-friendly knockoff of Hobonichi Planner, as my weekly planner. I also have Hobonichi Weeks which I use for memory keeping at the end of the month.

My system is simple:
- Left side: Time blocking space.
- Right side: Tasks that will get transferred to available time slots.

At the beginning of each week, I'll list all the tasks I want to do, prioritize them, block my time accordingly, and transfer them into my calendar or reminders app. Then I'll write a weekly reflection at the end of the week.

Memo Pad

This is my daily reflection tool for the week.

• Top of the page: Write down the date and jot down The Weekly Highlights at the end of the week.
  - Bottom of the page: List the four most important things to get done that week.

At the end of each day, I'll write down up to three highlights of the day. If there's a specific task for a particular day, I'll note it in the right corner and erase it when it's done.

Using a memo pad like this beats using a planner because it can stay open on my desk as a constant reminder of what’s truly important: my lived experiences.

Reminders App

I've tried every task management app under the sun and concluded that more features mean more chances for it to become an aspiration graveyard. I realized, if needed, I'd be better off with something like a project management tool where I can holistic plan and write notes for each task. So, Reminders app it is! It gives me notifications when something needs to be done and allows me to add only what absolutely must be done, with date and time.

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And there you have it! My new super simple weekly planning setup that's all about balance and living in the moment. Let's see how this goes!