My grandad passed away on February 25th 2015.
I say that as if I believe it.
don’t believe it.
My grandad came back from abroad, he went back home to Bangladesh for a couple of months. He really loves it there. He’s had a stent put in his heart, had a few problems here and there. When he came back in the later half of 2014, me and my siblings went to see him. He had a flu, “standard infection”.
Slowly, slowly he became weaker and weaker. He began to have these hiccups, that would come so many that it stopped him breathing for seconds. One night he was taken to hospital Cuz he just wasn’t well. He just wasn’t well at all this was around January this year. They discharged him only for him to come home and throw up a bucket of blood and be rushed into the emergency room.
They discharged him. On what grounds?
My birthday 31st January he was home. Bed ridden. I went to see him. He seemed “healthy-er”. He wasn’t. But I spent a couple of hours of my birthday with him. Made him laugh, watched him laugh, memorised his laugh.
All of February, he was weak, he was delusional, but I never, ever, ever thought he would give up. I never ever, thought the day would come where I cant go to see him whenever the hell I wanted to. My grandad was in hospital for A DAY due to him having an endoscopy and it going wrong causing him to bleed. ONLY A DAY. He was released on the 24th of February. He seemed to be fine, he seemed to be getting a bit more strength in my eyes. Until. The evening of 25th of February. We were all jolly, gonna go see him the next day, just eating away having our normal day. Until we get a urgent phone come to “dhadhas (grandads) house quick.
Disconnected phone. End of conversation.
My parents rushed there with my brother to find him… My uncles (5) and my aunt (all of them his children – my dad being the oldest was there).
When my grandad was in trouble the ambulance took 21 minutes to arrive, while he was in excruciating pain and choking on his own blood. The hospital didnt take care of him properly. So ill always have a grudge against the ambulance and hospital. When i hear an ambulance siren, i have tears in my eyes that is how much it still hurts.
Icant really talk about how my Grandad passed because I still can’t bring myself to talk about it without spiralling into a pit of depression.
My grandad held me as a baby, my grandad watched me take my first step, he watched me speak my first words. He watched me grow up through primary and secondary school and college. I had to move away for university, but I went to see him every weekend and in the holidays. My grandad meant the world and beyond to me. He was the calm ocean waves in my thunderstorms. He was my sunshine on a rainy day. He is the whisper that keeps me going. He was meant to watch me graduate into the best Pharmacist anyone has seen, he was meant to be there till the end of my time. When I was sad his presence would cheer up my life. When you didn’t wanna play outside you fell asleep on his lap. Everyone loved my grandad, everyone knew him. He was one of the most loved people I’ve ever met. He had the heart of an angel, the voice of an angel. I’d do anything to just hear his voice again. He never complained. He was never a burden on anyone.
There are times until now that I still say to myself I haven’t seen dhadha in ages let’s go. Until it hits me his not there. I phone him, and hang up. I know his sitting at home, but his not.
My grandad was a legend, he was my legend. I love him. And miss him. I crave his voice and presence, I just can’t help the withdrawal phase I’m in, where I just can’t accept his gone.
He’s still my motivation, that carries me when I’ve got the world on my shoulders. He is the reason I won’t graduate to be A PHARMACIST. He is the reason I’ll graduate to be THE BEST PHARMACIST. 💚
I’ll see you again Dhadha. 💚
May Allah bless and him and grant him mercy ❤
Inna Lilahi wa Inna ilayhi rajioon.
“To Him we belong, and to Him we return”