The sun was setting slowly, its orange hue slowly diminishing for now, but promising to re-emerge tomorrow. Leading me to wonder - does everything that comes to an end, have a new beginning?
I remember that night vividly, the night my father and I had visited my grandparents, and my grandfather had suddenly collapsed. It was the beginning of the end. But for whom? My grandfather?My grandmother? or A part of me connected with them?
My name is Apoorva and I have been told multiple times that I resemble my grandmother, but little did I know of my likeness to my grandmother, which I would come to own much later.
That night, my grandfather had a stroke. I remember feeling the urgency of doing things for my grandfather, it was like - I wanted to be there for him. Her children, daughter-in-laws, son-in-law, me and my cousins were all there with my grandmother at the hospital.
'Why are we here?' , she would repeatedly ask. She had dementia and my aunt and my mother were repeatedly explaining and calming her down.
Waiting there in the hospital, I had an alien feeling, that I am alone and all of us die alone one day. My grandmother's confusion seemed distant and I felt that I was somewhere away, away from all the pain and sorrows.
Looking at her, here at the hospital in this state, pained me.
'I don't trust anyone! You don't know Ravi how much difficulty I have here. Everyone is plotting against me', she would tell my father repeatedly whenever he visited my grandparents. He, me and my mother would be helpless spectators as my grandmother's rant on not trusting anyone would continue. None of us knew what was happening to her. Perhaps her elder son, a doctor and daughter-in-lawknew, but they didn't want to take responsibility.
But, now, when my grandfather was nearly dying, my uncle said, 'Let's give him a chance'. He was trying his best to prolong his life, even by putting him on life support. Somewhere, he didn't want to let him go. And none of us, perhaps, were prepared to let go of my grandfather. The end, when it comes, it shocks everyone; whether one cares or not, the end makes everyone care.
This was not the first time I was going to lose someone. It all began with my dog snowy, whom my grandfather and grandmother looked after. I would visit them every weekend, play with them and with snowy. I cherished my time with them, but somehow those days are now a memory. Snowy died, and later in college I grew into a shell, and would procrastinate going anywhere other than college or CET tuitions and my difficulties with peer interactions had intensified, so visiting my grandparents reduced. At the same time my grandmother's suspicions and assumptions had begun. And now, with my grandfather on the death bed, I wondered how she would cope.
Little did I know that though my grandfather's life ended, something ended in our family too, it was like something had broken. My grandmother, because of her dementia, was kept at a facility. At the same time, I grew further into a recluse and couldn't connect with my peers. Looking back, I could never connect with peers at school too, and it is only now that I know, that I was and am on the Neuro divergent spectrum.
Visiting my grandmother at the facility, led me to remember the free spirited person that she had been before. I loved the enthusiasm with which she would makefrench fries for me every weekend during my visits. I would sleep with my grandmother and snowy in the afternoon and we three would have lots of fun, with her sharing funny anecdotes of her life.
But now she was a shadow of her previous self. She would forget everything, even the fact that she had eaten her food. My mother would take her to the balcony during her visits and it was then that my grandmother enjoyed nature.
It's been more than 10 years since my grandmother passed. But she would have been proud to see me now. I am a 34 year old, happy single adult, living life on my own terms with my parents, my dog and my cats. I feel that I am as free spirited as my grandmother, the woman who loved reading, 'Gone With The Wind' during a time when none of her contemporaries didn't know to read and write. Yes, all things come to an end, but they also give rise to new things. I see my grandmother as living in me, and in every woman who aspires to dream and fly high.
I remember that night vividly, the night my father and I had visited my grandparents, and my grandfather had suddenly collapsed. It was the beginning of the end. But for whom? My grandfather?My grandmother? or A part of me connected with them?
My name is Apoorva and I have been told multiple times that I resemble my grandmother, but little did I know of my likeness to my grandmother, which I would come to own much later.
That night, my grandfather had a stroke. I remember feeling the urgency of doing things for my grandfather, it was like - I wanted to be there for him. Her children, daughter-in-laws, son-in-law, me and my cousins were all there with my grandmother at the hospital.
'Why are we here?' , she would repeatedly ask. She had dementia and my aunt and my mother were repeatedly explaining and calming her down.
Waiting there in the hospital, I had an alien feeling, that I am alone and all of us die alone one day. My grandmother's confusion seemed distant and I felt that I was somewhere away, away from all the pain and sorrows.
Looking at her, here at the hospital in this state, pained me.
'I don't trust anyone! You don't know Ravi how much difficulty I have here. Everyone is plotting against me', she would tell my father repeatedly whenever he visited my grandparents. He, me and my mother would be helpless spectators as my grandmother's rant on not trusting anyone would continue. None of us knew what was happening to her. Perhaps her elder son, a doctor and daughter-in-lawknew, but they didn't want to take responsibility.
But, now, when my grandfather was nearly dying, my uncle said, 'Let's give him a chance'. He was trying his best to prolong his life, even by putting him on life support. Somewhere, he didn't want to let him go. And none of us, perhaps, were prepared to let go of my grandfather. The end, when it comes, it shocks everyone; whether one cares or not, the end makes everyone care.
This was not the first time I was going to lose someone. It all began with my dog snowy, whom my grandfather and grandmother looked after. I would visit them every weekend, play with them and with snowy. I cherished my time with them, but somehow those days are now a memory. Snowy died, and later in college I grew into a shell, and would procrastinate going anywhere other than college or CET tuitions and my difficulties with peer interactions had intensified, so visiting my grandparents reduced. At the same time my grandmother's suspicions and assumptions had begun. And now, with my grandfather on the death bed, I wondered how she would cope.
Little did I know that though my grandfather's life ended, something ended in our family too, it was like something had broken. My grandmother, because of her dementia, was kept at a facility. At the same time, I grew further into a recluse and couldn't connect with my peers. Looking back, I could never connect with peers at school too, and it is only now that I know, that I was and am on the Neuro divergent spectrum.
Visiting my grandmother at the facility, led me to remember the free spirited person that she had been before. I loved the enthusiasm with which she would makefrench fries for me every weekend during my visits. I would sleep with my grandmother and snowy in the afternoon and we three would have lots of fun, with her sharing funny anecdotes of her life.
But now she was a shadow of her previous self. She would forget everything, even the fact that she had eaten her food. My mother would take her to the balcony during her visits and it was then that my grandmother enjoyed nature.
It's been more than 10 years since my grandmother passed. But she would have been proud to see me now. I am a 34 year old, happy single adult, living life on my own terms with my parents, my dog and my cats. I feel that I am as free spirited as my grandmother, the woman who loved reading, 'Gone With The Wind' during a time when none of her contemporaries didn't know to read and write. Yes, all things come to an end, but they also give rise to new things. I see my grandmother as living in me, and in every woman who aspires to dream and fly high.
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