@ninyatippett your stories have been a huge inspiration to me! Especially TMMM's Brandon and Charlotte, I found the courage to publish this , which is so close to my heart because of you and your writings.
NOTE: THATHA MEANS GRANDFATHER.
My grandma came to me this morning and asked me if I could take her to the cemetery to visit thatha (grandpa).
I agreed , and to take her later on during the day.
~~~~
The minute we got off the vehicle at the gates of the graveyard, she couldn't recognise the place. Mind you, she is 83 now, and thatha passed away almost 27 years ago on this day.
She was clueless, and sad because she couldn't recognise her own husband's graveyard. As we slowly walked past all the other grave stones, she started reading the names one by one.
Suddenly she stopped walking , turns to me and said " read the name on this one." And pointed her finger towards a fairly old looking gravestone .
I did as she asked me to, "John Edla" I read.
With teary eyes she says "that was my cousin!"
It dawned on me that she was going to see lot many names she would recognise.
Every time she walked past a name she could remember, she broke down a little more.
We finally reached thatha's grave, very lovingly she wiped the dust off of his stone, lays the flowers down and wouldn't even look up.
Her eyes set on the name , she says "Rheema, half of his grave is empty. I want to be buried beside him, right here. Nowhere else."
Her strong facade slowly crumbled, she sat there with her hand on the grave , just as if she could still feel his presence, reminiscing over all the years she spent without him.
Even though her asthma was at its worst from all the walking, she said let's pray.
she closed her eyes and started thanking God for all the good things in her life. she prayed about every person in the family (close to 15 people), spending a minute at least for every person individually , just as if she was recounting everything to thatha.
After the prayer, her eyes lingered around thatha's grave stone a little longer as if she couldn't bare to leave the place.
When she finally looked up to me, and said " let's go".
I could see in her eyes that she was a new person , even though she was leaving a part of her soul with her husband.
This happens every year on the 21st of july.
And every year she walks out of the cemetery with new found courage.
She is my hero.
YOU ARE READING
Yours Forever
PoetryMy thoughts on life in the form of poetry that I know of. Don't go into this thinking it'll be the traditional style of poetry, cause it is not. These are just my thoughts. I DO NOT ENCOURAGE SELF-HARM.
