My grandmother died a few days back. She was ninety years old and died in her sleep of natural reasons. She was not well for the last few years of her life. She needed help for her daily activities. She was unable to move. She used to spend most of the time lying on a mat and hence, developed bedsores on her back. When I met her last time, around three weeks before her death, she was even unable to recognize me. Naturally, everybody was happy and relieved that she’s left for her heavenly abode.
My grandmother was unmarried. She was my father’s aunt. She looked after my father through his youth, marriage, setting up of the new family to bringing up his children – my brother and me. She occupies whole of my childhood and youth.
My grandmother was my childhood playmate. She used to carry me on her lap to tour the neighborhood we lived. I used to accompany her to the shops. She used to take me to the fairs. When she travelled, she used to bring sweets for me. When I needed money and could not get it from father she used to give it to me from her small savings. She used to stand guard when I played with others in the nearby grounds. During chilling winter she used to light the dried leaves in our front lawn and we sat around it soaking in the warmth.
I just managed to visit her once or twice in a year for the last few years. But knowing that she’s there gave me comfort. Now, with her passing away, I feel a deep sense of sadness and void in my heart. It seems my childhood is as distant as the star that she has become.