Its been more than six months since he passed away and yet I am sitting here with the fear of writing this blog for I may end up crying..!!
For a person who has not witnessed death with naked eye, this came as the biggest PAUSE in my life. Death teaches us lesson beyond our imagination. And undeniably this has taught me the biggest one.
In our childhood our best companion is our grandparents. They become more like our friends for their heart and mind behaves more like ours.And HE , not just in my childhood but in all phases of my life till now, has been someone beyond a relation that cant be described.
On July 24th, God chose to end his suffering. But my Grandad has left me choked with emotions and memories. Since then not a day has passed without fighting the reality that he has not here anymore.For he has played the role of Father, Grandfather, Well wisher and more.
To explain his part in my life forces me to tell my whole story which is quite not possible.
But let me tell you what it meant!
From the day I started crawling, he held my tiny fingers, lifted me up to hold me close to his heart and give this gorgeous smile that portrayed unconditional love and pride.
From the day I took my first step, he carried me dancing and humming his routine lines dedicated to me "Velu Velu Velu...".Yes that's how he used to call me and it still rings in my ears every time I think about him.
The day I entered preschool , He drove me in his TVS Champ.It felt like flying , me smiling all the way.These are those days that are perfect , like you know you don't want any change in it.
He used to drop me in school, carrying my bag. I remember frowning at him for he used to drive in 20-30 kmph, not more not less.
He used to be the one I would ring to had I forgotten anything. He used to be the one I would run to whenever my parents scolded me.
He used to pick me up in the evening from school, buy me pastries and chocolates before I even asked him for one.He was this person who could not sit and relax, take some time out for himself. He would not think twice to help anyone. One would always find him with his Scooty, riding under the scorching sun and breezy evenings.
Fast forward few years, a pause in his life when he fell down. And then I started taking the Scooty to nearby shops.He was a personification of perfection. That's what he expected from me as well. That's how I grew, in his shadow.
The first grenade was thrown when I was in 11th grade. Cancer started eating My granddad's bladder.
I remember , crying my heart out in the hospital , hands covering my face, knees weak, on the ground . "Dramatic!" yes, but that's how it was. Sitting outside my house, shivering , calling my friend's as we needed blood. I needed him. Since then I have always had the fear of death. Of his death.
Radiation therapy sucked some life out of him.This was followed by respiratory problems. He was a person who had done so many good deeds for many people.But destiny had its irony, His lungs failed to work smoothly.And then heart said " let me join as well". He had an heart attack and another piece fell.
He fought through every time he fell, holding himself up for us, for my grandmum especially. Ahh! Such love they shared.Days drew on with repeated admissions to hospital; painful days of him moaning it was time to go; cherish-able days when I fed him, made him smile, looked after him!!
The last and final time, when he got hospitalized, he had given up. He had fought so long and he dint want no more. He kept pointing to posters murmuring of his departure. He had been sedated then, and over time we started dancing, singing, talking all unimportant stuffs just to see a small reaction from him. We became desperate for he dint even flinch for a very very long time! Tears dripping down, hopelessly trying to get him back! Just like "3 Idiots"!
And then one evening, aunt calls informing us on decreasing pulse and oxygen. A blur of vision to watch my mum rush to hospital, to see my grandmother sink to the chair. Time ticks.A PHONE CALL. NO MORE!
A crash of feelings, that was. That one particular moment for the reality to sync. And worse were to follow when they brought his body. To see his eyes, open yet lifeless.That feeling can never be put in words, to suddenly tell yourself that it is just a body without a soul! To watch the ceremonies, was heart wrecking. I cried my heart out! Struggling to accept reality!
Death teaches you life lessons like nothing else!
I miss him so much! But I also know no matter what he will always be there, watching us and to guide us!
Love you Thatha :')
For a person who has not witnessed death with naked eye, this came as the biggest PAUSE in my life. Death teaches us lesson beyond our imagination. And undeniably this has taught me the biggest one.
In our childhood our best companion is our grandparents. They become more like our friends for their heart and mind behaves more like ours.And HE , not just in my childhood but in all phases of my life till now, has been someone beyond a relation that cant be described.
On July 24th, God chose to end his suffering. But my Grandad has left me choked with emotions and memories. Since then not a day has passed without fighting the reality that he has not here anymore.For he has played the role of Father, Grandfather, Well wisher and more.
To explain his part in my life forces me to tell my whole story which is quite not possible.
But let me tell you what it meant!
From the day I started crawling, he held my tiny fingers, lifted me up to hold me close to his heart and give this gorgeous smile that portrayed unconditional love and pride.
From the day I took my first step, he carried me dancing and humming his routine lines dedicated to me "Velu Velu Velu...".Yes that's how he used to call me and it still rings in my ears every time I think about him.
The day I entered preschool , He drove me in his TVS Champ.It felt like flying , me smiling all the way.These are those days that are perfect , like you know you don't want any change in it.
He used to drop me in school, carrying my bag. I remember frowning at him for he used to drive in 20-30 kmph, not more not less.
He used to be the one I would ring to had I forgotten anything. He used to be the one I would run to whenever my parents scolded me.
He used to pick me up in the evening from school, buy me pastries and chocolates before I even asked him for one.He was this person who could not sit and relax, take some time out for himself. He would not think twice to help anyone. One would always find him with his Scooty, riding under the scorching sun and breezy evenings.
Fast forward few years, a pause in his life when he fell down. And then I started taking the Scooty to nearby shops.He was a personification of perfection. That's what he expected from me as well. That's how I grew, in his shadow.
The first grenade was thrown when I was in 11th grade. Cancer started eating My granddad's bladder.
I remember , crying my heart out in the hospital , hands covering my face, knees weak, on the ground . "Dramatic!" yes, but that's how it was. Sitting outside my house, shivering , calling my friend's as we needed blood. I needed him. Since then I have always had the fear of death. Of his death.
Radiation therapy sucked some life out of him.This was followed by respiratory problems. He was a person who had done so many good deeds for many people.But destiny had its irony, His lungs failed to work smoothly.And then heart said " let me join as well". He had an heart attack and another piece fell.
He fought through every time he fell, holding himself up for us, for my grandmum especially. Ahh! Such love they shared.Days drew on with repeated admissions to hospital; painful days of him moaning it was time to go; cherish-able days when I fed him, made him smile, looked after him!!
The last and final time, when he got hospitalized, he had given up. He had fought so long and he dint want no more. He kept pointing to posters murmuring of his departure. He had been sedated then, and over time we started dancing, singing, talking all unimportant stuffs just to see a small reaction from him. We became desperate for he dint even flinch for a very very long time! Tears dripping down, hopelessly trying to get him back! Just like "3 Idiots"!
And then one evening, aunt calls informing us on decreasing pulse and oxygen. A blur of vision to watch my mum rush to hospital, to see my grandmother sink to the chair. Time ticks.A PHONE CALL. NO MORE!
A crash of feelings, that was. That one particular moment for the reality to sync. And worse were to follow when they brought his body. To see his eyes, open yet lifeless.That feeling can never be put in words, to suddenly tell yourself that it is just a body without a soul! To watch the ceremonies, was heart wrecking. I cried my heart out! Struggling to accept reality!
Death teaches you life lessons like nothing else!
I miss him so much! But I also know no matter what he will always be there, watching us and to guide us!
Love you Thatha :')
Who is more lucky?
ReplyDeleteIs it the sweet grandfather who made his granddaughter pen down her emotions which can make any reader miss their grandfathers?
Or is it the sweet granddaughter who had a great hero which many of us long for?
Great work...��
Thanks Sankeerthana for your kind words.. :)
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