From a Grandson to his Grandfather

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more ; Death, thou shalt die.

Donne (Holy Sonnets)

Bereavement is a very strange feeling: it is a mixture of pain, poignancy, fond remembrances, and longing. I lost my grandmother when I wasn't old enough to fathom the loss.

My grandpa, your passing hit like a ton of bricks. It's been a year since you left us but I still struggle with the thought that you're no longer with us. Where I used to see your majestic and blessed figure poised stately on that bed, I now see a void. That holy and serene face, that trim and neat figure despite being so advanced in years, that elegance and refinement of manners— you were a veritable paragon of qualities. I'm proud to say that you proved equal to the task of upholding the mantle of the dynastic grandeur that was bestowed upon you by your polymath father. Indeed, you were a learned man in your own right.

I loved the ease with which you wielded your pen; I loved your sound command of Urdu and your sublime diction and penmanship;  I loved how you could rattle off historical facts and anecdotes with such accuracy as to inspire awe; I loved how you could relate incidents from your illustrious life with zing and clarity of thought; I loved how you could amaze us all with your long memory and vast knowledge of the countless places you'd visited during your government service; I loved your attention to detail in religious matters; I loved your regal and disciplined lifestyle; I loved how you ribbed us about our unadventurous lives, contrasting them with your highly spirited and adventurous one, for you were a skilled equestrian and a competent sportsperson; I loved how you weighed in on the caducity of life so often that your nuggets of wisdom should solace us in moments of crushing despair.

Whenever I was down, your pearls of wisdom gleaned from a lifetime of experience would elevate my spirit and hopes. Alas, I now have no one of your stature and experience around to buoy me up. In your later years, we grew very close. We became friends, confidants, even. I saw you loosen up your starch—you hit it off with all and sundry. And the older you grew, the more you reflected on the human condition. I'm writing all this as thoughts come to mind— I'm not going to file my thoughts away in some remote folder of the brain before getting them out gingerly and processing them. I'm so overcome with emotion that indulging in a stream of consciousness seems to be the only way of assuaging this frightful heaviness of the heart.

You have gone far, far away. I'm sure you're out there somewhere in the celestial abode, stately and majestic as ever. All I can do is always remember you in my prayers. May your status be exalted in the hereafter!

The writer is a civil engineer.