CYCLE OF LIFE

That day, old man was leaving us, forever!!!

I heard my mother calling relatives and friends, one-by-one, on phone and telling the
news in sobbing voice, “They will take out ventilator today at around 3 PM. You may
come to see him before that.”

Cycle of Life – Short Story Family

Photo credit: faustfoundation from morguefile.com

A week before that day, when he was taken to hospital, my father was helping
grandpa to lie on back seat of our car. I could not forget grandpa’s last unanswered
reply when I, while trying to control my tears, asked my mother whether he would be
all right. Grandpa called me by weak gesture and softly caressed my hair as he
generally used to do. But, very soon, his hand slipped away from my head, holding
left part of his chest to unsuccessfully stop the rising pain. He was struggling to
breathe normally. He was the same man who once almost ran to market in heavy
rain to buy inhaler for me, when I lost the one in school and was little breathless
because of asthma I had. But when it came to him that day I could not do much but
just cried. My mother embraced me saying grandpa would come back soon.

A night before that day, at hospital’s reception my mother was consoling my

distressed looking father to accept the destiny, “it has to happen one day.” I did not
understand what it meant but simply closed my eyes and prayed God to let my
grandpa be well soon. My grandpa once told me that prayers from children are pure
and they surely reach God. But it did not happen, perhaps.

That day, we reached hospital at 1 PM. We went inside. Security at reception did not
stop me that day. I was following my mother trying to meet her pace, climbing stairs,
to ICU where grandpa was admitted. A nurse guided us to a room. After a long week
gap I saw my grandpa — my best friend. Grandpa was sleeping peacefully on
hospital bed. There were many small TV and radio alike boxes with tiny lights. Few
boxes were making “beep-beep” sound in rhythm. I knew that the sound was fading
heart beats of my best friend — my grandpa. Then I saw my father, with red and
swollen eyes, sitting closure to grandpa’s bed. My mother could not control herself.
She started sobbing loudly kneeling at my father shoulder. My father gently stood up
and took my crying mother out of the room.

I was left alone with the most adorable man of my life. I went closure to him, where
my father was sitting just few seconds back. I watched the face of my dear grandpa.
There was no pain — it was calm and composed. Even with few plastic tubes in his
nose and mouth and a white foggy gas mask on it, I found his face quite charming
and graceful. I started caressing grandpa’s hair. I wished that he utter my name…
just once… It was the same mouth that told me so many stories, every day, until I
slept. I was waiting for his eyes to be opened… to see me last time… but he
continued sleeping… these were the old eyes that never got tired enjoying watching
my toys, my drawing, my homework, my mark sheets… Then I looked at his hand. It
was same hand that used to caress my hair. I held his palm in my both hand. I tried
measuring my palm with his. Nothing had changed. His palm was still larger than
mine. I touched his index finger… I held it last time… holding it always assured me
safe feeling in busy markets and crowded places…

I took out my inhaler from my pocket and kept it on a nearby table where already
many medicines were kept scattered. I remembered once my grandpa told me that
the inhaler was my life saviour… I murmured in grandpa’s ear, “Don’t worry
Grandpa, you would get well soon. I kept here inhaler to save you.”…

“It’s a boy” exhilarated voice of my father brought me back in my present. Today,

after eighteen years later, on the same floor of the same hospital I found my father
rushing towards a nurse who was carrying a just born baby. “What are you doing
there… come… look at him… he resembles ‘ditto’ your grandpa”, almost shouted my
father in excessive excitement, carefully holding the baby in his arms.

But I saw my grandpa in my father more than in my just born son. A new cycle of life
has started… to repeat itself once again.

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