Grandma was my world. A friend, philosopher and guide in combination. She was my problem solver. Whenever I broke a button, hurt my leg, fought with mom, got slapped by a bully in school or failed to solve a math problem; Grandma was my sole refuge. She loved me. I loved her more.
I never upset her. Always followed her orders. She said I had to stand first in the exams. I simply had to, come what may. My concentration was broken by some noise coming from downstairs. I ignored it at first. But after a few minutes, the noise grew louder. I walked down the stairs filled with anger. Who dared to disturb me while studying? Will complain to Grandma.
I reached the vestibule to find my whole family standing in a circle. As I approached, I found them all crying. I was looking out for Grandma. I wanted to ask her what was this all about. I could not find her though. So I thought I should ask Mom. I pulled her saree from the back and asked, "What is the matter? Why is everyone crying?" She did not reply. Just bent down and hugged me hard.
I could then see Grandma lying on the floor. Her eyes were closed. She was covered with a white sheet. Flowers were strewn on her, incense sticks by the side. I could not understand anything. I tried to wake her up. She did not move. I asked Dad to wake her up. He left the room sobbing. I told Mom to do the same. She cried hysterically. I was numb.
My aunt came and told me that Grandma has gone for a holiday to meet God. I could not understand how that was possible. How can she go to God when I could see her lying in front of me? But I deliberately bought the idea. It atleast made me feel that she will return. I mean if she had gone somewhere, she was bound to come back.
But she never returned. Later, as I grew up I realised that what I had witnessed was DEATH.
Death of a loved one. Little did I realise then, that I won't have my Grandma back. That she would never speak to me again. That she would never bade me to sleep with her bedtime tales. That she would never save me from Mom. That she would never hug me. She was gone. Forever. This is what death does. Takes away from you someone you thought life was not possible without.
Strangely, life still goes on. I grew up without my Grandma. But I could never forget her. I am still scared of death. Very scared. Not that I will die some day. But that someone close to me will leave me and go away. My secret prayer is that the day I die, I have all my close ones at my death bed.
Life, however does not function that way. Death is a reality. It has to be faced. You cannot live in denial. But I still do. I can't take anybody talking of death. I get reminded of Grandma lying without life on the floor.
It is scary. Very scary. Death of a loved one: my secret fear. Today, I admitted it for the first time. Now begins the effort to get over it. Will try!
