He Told Me Himself, He's a Gentle Soul

Three years ago today, my grandfather died. 

For a few months before he died, he'd been very ill, in and out of the hospital. I think somewhere that I had begun to realize that we were going to lose him. Every time I went home for the year before my grandfather passed away, I felt like I was seeing him for the last time. 

That last hospital visit, he held on until my birthday. He wished me. He could barely speak. After I got off the phone with him, I sat outside my office and cried for a full minute because I knew, I just knew, that I wouldn't speak with him again. Later that day, he fell unconscious. He never really fully woke up after that. I was one of the last people he spoke to. 

Words cannot express just how much I feel the loss of my grandfather in my life. For someone who has lost, through death or estrangement, a father, a grandmother, a great-grandmother, an uncle and a couple of best friends, it is shocking to me that the loss that has been felt most keenly is that of my grandfather's. My grandfather was 88. He was in declining health. His death was not a shock. I stayed in regular touch with him. I spoke to him often and visited him as often as was physically possible, I didn't feel like there was any unfinished business with him. 

And yet, I feel all the cliches that people talk about when discussing grief - the gaping hole, the void, the sense of permanent, unceasing grief. It makes no sense to me. 

He was a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man. He was also a good man. He was a caretaker -  his natural tendency was to look after everyone around him. He love food and he loved to feed people. He was a scholar who spoke fluent Sanskrit. He spoke pure Tamil and loved to explain the finer points of religion and philosophy to me. He called me 'Atom Bomb' as a nickname. It seems fitting, all things considered. 

My grandfather loved me, as surely as most grandparents love their grandchildren. More importantly though, my grandfather was delighted by me. I love that word - delight. What an utter treat to be delightful in someone's eyes. He loved my enthusiasm. He was endlessly proud of my writing. He thought I was incredibly funny. He was touched at how thoughtful he believed I was. He was fortified by his belief that I would take great care of his only daughter. He was moved by the odds I had overcome as a child to achieve whatever I did. He was pleased that I was the first member of his family to study and live abroad. 

He was delighted by me. I delighted him. 

And I will never have that again.