One strong belief that I had as I was growing up, was that I would never lose my dear ones. I had seen deaths, but somehow a child's heart was unwilling to accept the fact that this could happen with her loved ones too.
I, first got a major jolt when I lost my 'aama' (grandma) . I had come home for my semester break and that made me devote each second of that one month for her. I would constantly be in her side, helping her to have medicines. I could clearly see her dying bit by bit each passing day. But, I told myself that it is not going to happen. My grandpa would sit beside her and chant slokas which seemed to pacify her. She would close her eyes and try to absorb the rhythm of the slokas. Little did I know, my grandpa was already freeing her from the torments of her ailing body. He finally had made his mind to let her go.
I could see her unwillingness to have medicines, she would twitch her face in disdain whenever the doctor came to visit her. She had lost her speech in her death bed but her eyes spoke her heart . She would constantly stroke my hand whenever she regained consciousness and tears would brim out of her eyes. I understood she wanted me to know she was leaving, she wanted me to bid her farewell.
The day before my grandma left us for good, I saw flies cover her bed. My grandpa told me, this was a clear indication and summoned everyone to her bed. Instead of making a fuss, we chose to tell her how special she has been for us. The night gave away to light and amidst dropping pulse rate and feeble breaths, my grandma finally found her liberation.
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