Recently, out of the blue, my grandma passed away. She had been suffering from a critical ailment for almost a year, when the chances of recuperating dropped close to zero. She was coddled by my grandpa all through that time, which I believe beats even the grandeur of Shah Jahan’s love for Mumtaz. This ‘Iron Lady’ was the backbone of our family and we all did our best to make her feel comfortable and content.
One day, we had to rush her to the hospital and her blood pressure kept dwindling with each passing second. Once we reached the hospital, the doctor’s cue left us all heartbroken. We felt helpless; we looked at each other in despair, as our anguished cries echoed off the hospital’s walls. Indeed, that day proved to be one that none of us would have wanted, not even in our faintest thoughts.
So, while everybody else busied themselves with the arrangements for the last rites, I stood next to my grandma in that hospital room with nobody around. Never before had I witnessed the death of a family member as close as she was. But the fact that she was my own awa, made it all the more excruciating. A doctor who was passing by, noticed me standing, still as a statue next to my grandma, and approached me. “I understand you, dear. Please sit beside her; hold her hands and hug her for as long as you can. She is still your grandma. Make her last moments special”, he told me sympathetically. For the next fifteen minutes, I indulged in a monologue with my awa. I mused over my favorite moments with her and lastly, scolded her for leaving without eating her favorite dish- my dosa. Those last few moments with her will always remain truly precious to me.
Eventually, the funeral day arrived. I realized how comforting crying out loud felt. My sister and I were hesitant to perform the last rites, but we were left with no choice. One last time, I hugged her tight like never before, uttering “I LOVE YOU AWA”, and touched her feet to seek her blessings. We bid her a remorseful goodbye. My heart still pounds fast when I think about the moment my grandma left the house for her final journey. However, I cannot help but feel happy for her, because she no longer has to worry about her tiring ordeals with her health.
From time to time, I fondly remember the way she would call me ‘Shivu Kutty’ and miss her terribly. Our house does not feel complete anymore, as a void gapes wide in all our hearts. But the impact she has had on all of us hasn’t diminished, and she will continue to live on in each of our cherished memories of her, forever.
REST IN PEACE AWA!
