It's another week to pen down success, though this week's prompt drew me down memory lane of when I lost my maternal grandfather. Growing up as a child, I did think and carry the notion that when you are grown enough to the age that you wish to die, you will call on death yourself, and it will come pick you up just like someone traveling. I lived with this notion daily until a scenario changed my way of thinking. I didn't spend as much time with my grandpa as I would have loved, but unfortunately, I lost him to the cold hands of death when I was 7.
Then I was opportune to live with my grandparents for a while, and whenever grandpa went to work, I always looked forward to his return because I knew he would surely get a gift for me. After all, that's his daily routine. I got so used to him that I was able to master the sound of his motorcycle, and whenever he was coming from afar, I would recognize he was the one returning from work. Till I fall asleep at night, I will be in his room. We would eat together on the same plate, play together, and enjoy any goodies he bought for me from work, excluding my grandma from the equation.
She always complains that I snatched her husband, which makes many in the neighborhood refer to me as the junior wife. Whenever I went wrong and my grandma wanted to scold me, I was always confident because my grandpa would always defend me, and this made me prefer hanging out with him. I guess I was loved by him because I am the first grandchild, and he gave me lots of free tickets. I had wished for him to be around for a longer period, but I guess no matter how hard we try, there are some things we can't change about life.
Just as usual, I will stick with him closely after he is back from work, acting like the junior wife indeed. After dinner that day, I wasn't feeling sleepy, so I was in his room till late at night. He kept on looking at me and telling me several stories before my grandma came in to interrupt. "Are you people not going to sleep?" was the first question she asked. I am not sleepy, Grandma," I replied in my native dialect. My grandpa, who had been quiet, replied, "We are having a nice time; please do not disturb." Grandma smiled and went out to complete whatever she was doing. Some part of me wanted to ask him why he was staring deeply into my eyes, but I struggled with it and decided not to ask.
After a while, I became sleepy, but I didn't feel like leaving him yet. I couldn't understand the feeling, but I knew I felt strange. Unknown to me, I slept off, and I was taken to my room. Just as on a normal night, I slept, and later in the early morning, I was woken up by strange voices and the loud sound of cries. Immediately, I hurried out of bed just to see what was happening outside, and I saw my grandma sitting on the floor, wailing and crying profusely.
At that point, I was shocked. The first thing that came to mind was my grandpa. I ran to his room, but the door was locked. That's unusual," I said to myself. I ran back outside and kneeled in front of my weeping grandma to ask where my grandpa was and the reason behind her tears. She couldn't say anything other than to draw me closer and weep uncontrollably, and then I knew something was wrong. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I started weeping, and I can say that was one of the saddest days of my life.
A woman rushed in and shouted, "Is it true? Is he truly dead?" mentioning my grandpa's name, and then I understood the situation better. In my crying state, I shouted his name repeatedly while people were comforting me, and then it dawned on me. I started thinking of all we had done the night before his death. "He didn't look sick," I said to myself, or was he sick and pretending not to? I kept asking myself different questions. After a while, I was taken out of the house when his corpse was to be moved out. I wished to sew him, but I wasn't allowed as I was being told it wasn't good for me due to my age to protect my mental health. "Is that the end? Wouldn't I see him again? I thought to myself.
This caused me emotional turmoil, and as the days went by, I couldn't comprehend what had happened. Was that why he was staring at me the night before? I thought that was the only thing I could do; I was thinking in different directions. "Did he know he was going to die? I asked myself, "Was that the reason he couldn't sleep early? These were the questions left unanswered in my head; his death was a mystery to me until today, and all these questions remain in my head. I hope I can get answers to them one day.
Thanks for your time and your comments will be appreciated.