A Common Feeling

It's interesting how
you have no time
to mourn me.

The date for my grandad's yearly death rites was decided. My birthday happens to be that day. What is sadder is that I won't be around this time. I managed to be there even when I was doing my masters abroad. The qualification has changed, not the place, but I can't make it this year. I feel sad about that. He's the only grandparent I like and miss. The best one was taken away.

It's been 4 years since his death and my heart still weeps for him. I sometimes peep into my grandmom's house expecting him to loiter about there. It feels strange to walk into his study room. When his colleagues speak of him, the all too familiar lump in my throat emerges. I miss him so much. I miss how he brought pomegranate for me, the all-knowing smile he wore and the fact that he ALWAYS brought a gift back for me (however silly it may be) from whatever city he visited. The consolation for the despair, loneliness and sheer quietness he left behind is that we often feel the ghost of him around us. Haunting us among his dusty books, smiling at us through the kind words of his friends, in the naughty glint in his children's eyes and sometimes in our dreams.

My words lay useless
when I describe
you and what you
mean to me.