Friday, 4 November 2011

#239 …when they’re dying and the last thing they want is to hear your voice one last time.

We were still kids then.. 20 years ago.. Unaware of how relations mattered, how feelings develop, how things would change in the times to come and a whole lot of other things. What we were at all interested in was playing, hanging out, watching TV and doing things which people mostly called naughty. I vividly remember the time my grandpa was in hospital after his brain hemorrhage. Every morning and evening someone would go to meet him. It was soon understood that he wouldn’t survive for long. The message didn’t percolate to our generation. Even if it did, I doubt it would have mattered much. Death was still an unknown demon to us. That particular evening mom was asking me to accompany her to the hospital. I was too busy playing with my neighbourhood friends to agree on accompanying her. She kept telling me that grandpa would be delighted to see me, and I kept telling her to leave me alone with my friends. 20 years have passed.. But the regrets haven’t. I so wish to be regranted that chance to visit him – the last it would be, for he didn’t survive another day. He died with the unfulfilled wish of hearing my voice and seeing my face the last time.   

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