THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Four

Entry Forty-Four:

I remember my father. He was a kind-hearted man who was devoted to his mother. My grandfather had died long before I was born, and my grandmother came to live with us. She was always happy and filled with joy. We loved her dearly and cherished each moment with her. Then one day, everything changed. We found her seated in a corner of her room…her eyes wild…a bewildered look on her face. She didn’t seem to recognise anyone of us and appeared to be afraid. From that moment on, my father entered into a time of deep grief…like me…grief for a person yet living, but not present. 

I still don’t know what happened to my grandmother…why one day she was cheerful and carefree and the next scared and easily startled. She still looked the same…she still was the same…and yet was not. My father took her to the rabbi…to all the best physicians. They offered no remedy and no hope. In the end, we had to accept the fact that she was gone forever, even though she was living with us. How my father wept…but he never gave up trying to reach her. Every day he would be the first to greet her. Gently he would touch her and reassure her that he meant no harm. He would remind her that he was her son and that he loved her. He would feed her, all the time telling her stories from the past…happy stories. And before she went to sleep, he would remind her that in dreams, she would find herself once more. Who knows if she ever did? A year later, he found her asleep forever. She looked tranquil…and at peace.

I remember his grief before and after…while she was and yet was not, his grief was intense and unabating. But after her passing, the grief seemed to diminish…as if dealing with the second loss was easier than the first. I can see my grief in his…I grieve for one who is here and yet not here. In that we are similar…