Five Years

I came home from my (two years late) A-level graduation ceremony and proudly showed him my medal.

He was delighted, and immediately fished out some cash from under his pillow (where he generally kept it) as a token of his love and appreciation.

Although he wasn’t well, when I told him I wanted to take a picture with him to commemorate the day, he insisted on getting up and sitting with me for it.

It’s only been 5 years. It’s already been 5 years.

Miss you, grand father.



She arranged her slippers and reminded me of her husband.

Last evening, she was using his walker because her legs were hurting and I was sad again.

This time, though, the tug at my heart strings was for her. She suddenly looked so frail and old and I wondered how many more moments we all have with her…

Tears sprang to my eyes but I held them back. I am good at that.

What I did was fill her jug and put it at the night stand, like Dad reminded me to. Held both her hands and helped her to her bed, ambling along slowly as she had ‘forgotten’ both her stick and walker outside.

Said a little prayer for her. Wrote a blog post.


The other day I observed my grandmother pushing her slippers to a side using her walking stick. This brought up a memory, a faint image, from a time long gone, of my grandfather doing the same.

That’s when I realized I hadn’t thought about him in a while. Which saddened me more.

Out of sight, out of mind, huh? Except, he’s not really gone. He’s all around us in his absence. He’s all around me in his absence.

With some of the things going on in my life, I really wish that he had been here. Maybe he would have been sure.

In fact, I’m sure he would have been sure.

I remember how he used to ask me to pass him something and then say “I have really long hands.”

It was always funny when he said it.

The Forgotten Lunch

Once, a long time ago, when my dad was away on a trip abroad, my driver had to drop me to school.

My grandfather wanted to make sure that there were no problems whatsoever in the completion of this little task. So he decided he would wake up early in the morning, accompany me and then head on to the office rather than going back home.

I don’t remember whether this happened for the entire duration of dad’s trip, how long he was away, or any other detail.

All I remember is that one day, when we had left home, I could not find my lunch box in my bag. The obvious conclusion was that I had left it at home. But there wasn’t enough time to go back to get it and make it before the bell rang and the gates closed.

I remember him saying he’ll do something about it; send me my lunch box to me somehow.

I remember this was important because I was only in the first grade. The school being more of a nursery branch till grade three, there was no concept of a “canteen” or “tuck shop”. I don’t remember being worried though – he said he’d do something. He was a man of action and a man of his word.

I remember when lunch time came, everyone around me took out their carefully packed boxes and began munching away. I remember telling my group mates I didn’t have anything because I had forgotten. First-graders are nice, I remember. They duly offered to share their portions with me (ZZ, thanks so much!).

But, I remember, before we proceeded further, my teacher handed me a big shopper-bag.

My grandfather, the man of action, the man of his word, had delivered. Delivered a sandwich to me in school right at lunch time. Had someone buy a hot, fat, four-tiered delicious club sandwich and get it to me, right on time.

I remember it tasted excellent, even though it was too big for me to finish.

And I remember digging through my bag later for some book, only to see my lunch box lying there innocently.


But I remember and I will always remember…

Grandfather, I miss you. May Allah grant you peace and Heaven.