I walked into his room, feeling scared and reluctant. He wasn’t there. I could see his belongings kept neatly, the 2 pairs of slippers, the kit bag with some cosmetics, a folded kurta, a pair of specs, a book. She wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. She is no longer there anywhere. There was no trace of her, her slippers weren’t kept beside his, her specs were not there, no clothes, one side of the bed had a pile of extra pillows, there was only one sheet. I could not smell her – the smell of her soap and her cream. For the first time in my life – I couldn’t feel her. I kept expecting to see her, hear her – but she didn’t come.
I am at my parent’s home – my grandfather is here. He is slowly getting used to living without her. When I see him, so alone and frail, I just want to hug him and cry, but of course I don’t. He is not supposed to be alone, she is supposed to be here with him, taking care of him, fighting with him, scolding him. He seems so child-like without her. It hurts to see my grandfather so old and so lost.
I miss her. We all do.