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Cycle of life

I still remember the day when my grandfather left us alone. I saw my mother was calling family members and our family friends, informing them about my grandfather's illness. She was telling them about the doctor's decision to remove the ventilator today at around 3 PM. 

A few days ago, when we were taking him to the hospital, my dad was assisting my grandfather with lying on the back seat of our vehicle. I still remember my grandfather's last gestures when I was controlling my tears, asking my mom whether he will be OK. My grandfather called me by powerless motion and delicately touched my hair as he usually does. However, very soon, his hand evaded my head, holding the left side of his chest to fruitlessly stopping the rising agony. He was trying to inhale properly. He was the one who once nearly rushed to the medical store in the hefty downpour to purchase an inhaler for me when I lost my inhaler in school and was somewhat winded as a result of asthma I had. Now, when he needs me, I was helpless to do anything for him but cry. My mom hugged me, saying my grandfather would be well soon. A night before that day, at the hospital’s reception, my mom was supporting my upset looking dad to acknowledge the fate it needs to happen one day. I didn't comprehend what it implied.  I closed my eyes and supplicated God to grant my grandfather health. 

That day, we arrived at the hospital at 1 PM. We headed inside. I was with my mom attempting to catch her speed, climbing steps of stairs, to ICU where my grandfather was conceded. A medical attendant guided us to his room. After 7 days, I was watching him. My role model, my grandfather was lying peacefully on his bed.  A lot of medical apparatus was around his bed, some of them making sounds with rhythm. At that point I saw my dad, with red and swollen eyes, sitting near my grandfather's bed. My mom couldn't control her emotions. She began wailing noisily stooping at my dad's shoulder. My dad delicately stood up and took my crying mother to the gallery.

It left only me and the most lovable person of my life in the room. I get close to him, where my dad was sitting only moments ago. I was looking at the face of my dear grandfather. There was no torment it was totally relaxed. His face was looking very beguiling and agile. I began touching my grandfather's hair. I wanted him to call me by my name at least once. I wanted him to see me for one last time, but he didn't open his eyes. These were the same old eyes that never got worn out watching me play with my toys. Then I saw his hand. It was the hand that used to stroke my hair. I held his palm in both hands. Nothing had changed. His palm was still bigger than mine.  I held it last time. Holding it generally guaranteed me protection. I took an inhaler from my pocket and placed it on the side table, and whispered in his ear, don't worry grandfather you would recover soon. I am leaving this inhaler for you.

Today, after 18 years, in the very same hospital I saw my dad running towards a medical caretaker who was carrying a child. What are you doing here look at your son, he has your grandfather's looks, my father was nearly yelling with excitement.

A new cycle of life has started to repeat itself once again.






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