As I begin to write about you, I realise that if you were physically present here, you wouldn’t understand a word unless I explained it to you, but now that I know you are in heaven, seeing everything and knowing everything, perhaps you already understand what I am about to write. I’ve loved you every day and will continue to do so for the rest of my life and beyond. I treasure every detail of our memories and wish I could go back in time and relive them all. As I type, tears are dripping from my eyes, making the words blurry, and I’m going to misspell and correct them because I don’t remember the keyboard like I remember your face. Oh, how I wish I could relieve those moments,and boy, does it hurt to know that it’s impossible.

Your smile is what we miss so dearly now and i don’t know whether we’ll ever be able to not miss it. I remember you taking out the glass putty from every window in the house and making us those birds, and we’d ask you to do it every day until there was only the spirit of putty left in between the glasses and the grills. I recall your delectable recipes, and I hope you recall mine as well.

I recall you ordering us to go buy candies when we were too young to hold pennies. You followed us from one store to the next while we were busy buying treats and you were busy paying for them. I remember your enthusiasm, as well as mine, as I had handful of candies and you had a heartful of love. I remember you taking us to our mango field in the summers and teaching us how to hit the ripe ones. I also remember you used to smoke and I’m guilty of loving it. My favourite memory of you is sitting in the shop and smoking, as much as I am against it, I wish you hadn’t quit it. I calm myself by thinking that perhaps you never quit smoking and were just doing it without our knowledge. I remember you dropping us off at the bus stop for school in the morning, and when we’d come home calling out your name, mum would tell us that you’d gone back to the Village, and then we’d see your saree and come looking for you on the terrace, and you’d be there hiding, just continuing your prank. I remember your stories and also when you started forgetting them, and how I would give you hints from your own stories so you could tell them again. You were an artist, a cook, a fighter, a badass, and the woman with it all.

As I awoke that morning, I received calls saying you weren’t feeling well, knowing we were going to bring you here for better treatment, I was feeling fine. Then we got the call that you died, my heart skipped a beat and I couldn’t accept it, and it’s been days and I still can’t bring myself to believe that when I walk into that living room, I won’t find you sitting there, I won’t smell your presence, and I won’t see that beautiful smile again. All I can do is replay it in my thoughts over and over, then return to reality to give myself the jolt that pierces my chest like a sharp pin. That’s when I realised that no one should be so good that when they leave, they bring the world to a halt for those they’ve left behind.

After we found out you had died, the same car that was supposed to pick you up and bring you here took us to see you one final time. I admit that I was unable to feel it during the journey; all I knew was what I heard and tried not to think about it. I started crying as soon as I got there before entering the gate, and then I saw your body covered in a sheet, and then everyone came in, and papa removed the sheet as if he was trying to wake you up. The entire world came to a halt the moment he removed the sheet; I saw your body and I saw your face, and it hurts to describe how gorgeous you looked. After looking at you, my head began to hurt; it felt so unfair to know that God took you when you looked like that. How did you pull that off? How did you keep your black and grey hair shiny and your skin glowing? I’d swear to anyone that you were stunning and that your body belonged to a young lady in her twenties. You looked as you were about to get up and talk. Even though I knew you were dead, seeing your face gave me the false hope that maybe you’d talk, maybe they didn’t check properly, maybe you were just waiting for us.I remember your face, you lovely lady, and I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. I saw you just a few months ago and had no idea it was the last time I’d see you. I wish I could have seen you one last time knowing it was the last time, I would have hugged you and cried my heart out, maybe I would have hugged you so tight that God couldn’t take you and would give up on the hope of ever taking you. I’d like to believe you’re in a better place and having the time of your life right now. You were a fan of the epics, and now you’re a part of it. I adore you; you’re my dadi.

Hey lady, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. You know, whenever I’m in a lot of pain, I come here to write about you, thinking that maybe it’ll help, and maybe it does, and maybe for a moment my heart is calm. I have to remind myself over and over that I can only see you in my most beautiful dreams now, and my greatest fear is that I will never accept the fact. It’s excruciatingly painful Grandma because these invisible things are so nasty.