To mourn the loss of a loved one and to accept this loss is never easy.
This short tale depicts the journey of a girl, born in the digital era, as she goes through a series of overwhelming emotions but just doesn't know how to showcase it.
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Part 1 - NOSTALGIA WITH A HINT OF DUST
!Trigger warning - Death!
It was 11 am. One table. Two obsolete chairs. These were the only remaining contents of her grandfather's dusty, strange-smelling cabin. She propped herself onto one of these chairs. Its legs were loose, so naturally, the chair creaked as she sat. And then, there was silence. A chilling yet comfortable silence that had lingered around far before her grandfather had left her. "He was too good for this world" she heard her father murmur in the other room, as he comforted her mother who was no longer crying. Her mother looked feeble. She had run out of tears, mourning her loss.
The girl looked around. Her grandfather or 'Dada' as she used to call him, was a simple and modest man. He lived alone in the one-story house that he claimed to help build with his bare hands. He was the neighbourhood's beacon of light. Always up at the crack of dawn, ready to start his day. Everyone loved Dada. He never found excuses when it came to helping people.
They said Dada died in his sleep. He looked peaceful like he had fulfilled whatever purpose God put him here for. Dada had great faith in God. He would start and end every day with a prayer. He would eagerly wait every evening for his granddaughter to call. Yet every day without fail, she would disappoint him by "forgetting". Still, Dada never lost hope. He would sit by the phone patiently, precisely at 4 pm when his granddaughter would finish school. Sometimes, he would call her instead and she would always reply with the usual "Sorry Dada, I'm busy now. Can I call you later? Love you". But even hearing that delighted the old man. After all, he didn't have much to wait for. He dwelled alone.
The relatives had now entered the house. They came rushing in to comfort her and her family, but she knew it was all a facade. These crocodile tears were on display so that her distant aunts and uncles wouldn't feel immoral while grabbing whatever little equity and fortune Dada had left behind. She knew Dada wouldn't mind them coming and demanding what they claimed 'rightfully belonged to them'. "Generous even after death," she thought. She hated every bit of it, but like the good daughter she was raised to be, she entertained this show. She had to sit through hours of people asking her how she was doing. She conjured a smile to assure them she was alright. It's pretty hard persuading con men she thought as she smiled at her eccentric sense of humour.
Apart from the occasional glances and 'empathetic' smiles, she noticed how people were gawking at her, both perplexed and worried. She wondered why. Then it hit her. It had been three days since Dada's demise and she hadn't cried yet. They all knew she was Dada's favourite. The two would spend hours together when she was younger, reading in that now dusty room. They didn't converse much but they enjoyed each others' company. Every evening they would walk up to a nearby store and Dada would buy her ice cream which she would struggle to finish without making a mess. He would laugh, take his crumpled up napkin from his pocket and wipe her mouth. She would spend the majority of her summer doing this with Dada, until entire summers became two weeks, then two days and finally, she couldn't even spend two minutes to call him. She loved him, no doubt about that. It was just that the other things in life seemed to take precedence.
They all looked at her like she was an oddity. "He cared about her considerably and she can't even shed a tear? Heartless!" she heard one of the strangers in her house 'whisper' to another man she had no recollection of meeting. "I'm heartless? Oh the irony!" she thought to herself. She couldn't handle the stares any longer so she walked out of the house, went to the store, bought a large dollop of ice cream and rushed back to Dada's house. She sat on the chair in Dada's room with an enormous smile plastered across her face as she devoured that ice cream in solitude. And then the clock struck three.
[END OF PART ONE] Let me know what you think in the comments below :)
