On The Ventilator


I remember but I also don’t
How you smelled and how soft you felt
How you’d wear white tanks and blue/purple shorts
How you’d lean by your neem tree and acknowledge roses
How the last number you counted was 28 of them.

I remember but I also don’t
How you passed out in the backseat of a taxi
How I watched your chest move while everyone else tried to wake you up
How your meals consisted of untasty food
How the last meal you ate was your Easter dinner.

I remember but I also don’t
How I refused to come meet you in the hospital
How I heard over the phone you had to have a surgery
How I was anxious about meeting everyone coming to meet you
How I finally decided to come the day you left.

I remember but I also don’t
How I felt lost in the building
How I saw her against the wall, clutching your belt, silent
How everyone directed me to your daughter, also silent
How I was passed from one person to another, the people I didn’t want to meet.

I remember but I also don’t
How they said they’d arrange an ambulance
How they said she’d ride with us to lessen the pain
How that plan didn’t work, she cried, still silent
How short that ride back to your place was.

I remember but I also don’t
How we reached before you
How we waited for you, whatever was left
How people trickled in like it was an event
How I wished I wasn’t there.

I remember but I also don’t
How they saluted you as they kept a wreath on your chest
How she walked out in a white saree and wiped your forehead
How your face and her saree were now the same color
How she fixed the cross in your folded palms.

I remember but I also don’t
How we prepared for the lowering
How she finally made a sound
How she realised you were gone
How we realised, we’d never see you again.

I remember but I also don’t
Your heart failed you

The machine was trying
You kept sinking
And you let go.

I remember,
You left before I came.
You left before I could tell you to hold on.
You left before I could tell you to breathe.
You left before I could tell you to stay.

I remember, Grandpa
You left without a goodbye.

Featured Image Courtesy Of Google Images.

27 Comments on “On The Ventilator”

  1. Ow!!

    The grief it pulls from you!!

    Iโ€™m not a cryer, generally, but this, if I let myself I could cry a good long cry.

    It make us as readers, feel like the grief is ours!

    So powerful!

    Iโ€™m an truly sorry for your loss! He mustโ€™ve been a very special Grandpa!!

    God bless and comfort you with his memory!!

    Peach

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you very much ๐Ÿ˜€ This means a lot to me to be able to show the hurting and be appreciated for the same.
      He really was an amazing grandpa. I miss him every day and it’s been nine years
      Thank you so much, Peach, for your kind words โค

      Like

  2. As I read your post repeatedly may your thoughts, the perfect words I could not find, be a message to my grandfather and a salve to my aching heart. Sorry for your loss and thank you for your gift.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. This is different, not read this kind of stuff before…
    You left before I could wish for your wellness
    You left before I could imagine the life after you!!
    Really touchy, great tribute Anya…๐Ÿ˜€

    Liked by 1 person

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