I believe in love because of them.

It’s my grandma’s funeral. I’m sitting in the corner. Alone. Listening to people’s pretentious cries. I’m looking at her face…so pure but tears still don’t flow from my eyes. I’m just looking at her dead body, asking myself to accept that there will no longer be a shelter that would protect me from the dirt and heat of the world, no longer a warm lap to cry on, no longer soft hands that will caress my hair making me feel that I’m at least important to someone, no one who’d just wait all day to see my face, no longer beautiful eyes which will cry if I cry…
My grandma just disappeared. POOF!
She’s just matter, soon to be recycled. As John Green puts it in his book Looking for Alaska: “What was her – green eyes, half a smirk, the soft curves of her legs – would soon be nothing, just the bones I never saw. I thought about the slow process of becoming bone and then fossil and then coal that will, in millions of years, be mined by humans of the future, and how they would heat their homes with her, and then she would be smoke billowing out of a smokestack, coating the atmosphere.” 
  Mary Frye in her poem says:
“Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, i do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush.
Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die.”

    There are a lot of people in the world who care about you but only a few to whom you are very important. Today, I feel like an orphan. My grandparents were, are and always will be my real parents. I was much closer to them than I am to my parents. My grandma would always know what’s going on in my mind even when my mom wouldn’t. My grandpa would call me Billi na bacho (kitten). I would cuddle up with him like a  baby and he’d tell me their love story which he remembered with the dates. How sweet is that!
True love is hard to find but once you’ve found it, no worldly differences will ever be able to separate you. My grandparents’ love is an example for the whole world. It’s because of them that I still believe in true love and I always will. 

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6 thoughts on “I believe in love because of them.

  1. I cannot help but “feel” one of Mewlana Rumi’s pearls, as I read through your post. Hence, I humbly borrowed it to share:

    “This being human is a guest house.
    Every morning is a new arrival.
    A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness;
    comes as an unexpected visitor…
    Welcome and entertain them all.
    Treat each guest honorably.
    The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
    meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
    Be grateful for whoever comes,
    because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”

    May ever tear keep your strong. And may Allah’s most benevolent blessings be bestowed upon your loving Grandma and every soul, who leaves us to be back with the “Soul of the soul” — to wait for us to join the journey of life. Amen.

  2. I got this post at the moment when even I’m suffering from the same trauma of losing my Granny (Nani)… and the worst part is I couldn’t even get to see her! Now I think I don’t have guts and stamina to see her lying in eternal peace! By the time I’m writing this, her physical existence would have gone from this world… she would have gone for forever.. never to come back again… 😦

    The pain and trauma you went through brought back my memories of time spent with my Nana-Nani….

    Beautiful lines…

  3. the older we get, the more friends we lose but we gain new ones
    may the love your grandmother gave you, transform into the love to your children and grandchildren yet to be born

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