You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

I think it is time that she is granted her due.

Life continues to fascinate with lessons it keeps sharing at various corners of your years of existence. I say this with utmost conviction, even after having understood first hand that convictions themselves may overturn when life decides it.

There was a lady who was part of my life ever since I can remember. In the early years, I remember more of her than I do of my parents. Unfortunately, this is a period which was eventually erased from memory as I grew older and understood life and her a little more. By the time I moved out of home, she had reduced to becoming a source of irritation because of what my mind’s perceived truth about her was, compounded by the extreme senility that passing years had embraced her with.

Because the years of affection were heavily outnumbered by the times spent being angry and irritated at her, the only thought known and acceded in my mind was that when it is time for her to go, it would be a time of relief for the rest of us.

Lest it be misunderstood, the anger against her was not unfounded. It was on account of her actions and her words suffered by many people over many years. But this is neither about what she did or did not do nor is it about any remorse for my lack of feeling towards her.

This is about a lesson I learnt since she has passed.

If ever, I was convinced about one thing, it was that she wouldn’t be missed once gone.  I have been proven wrong.

I was also convinced about what I thought my memory of her would be. I admit yet again, I was wrong.

I am surprised that even after so many years of her having left us in peace, I do not recall the reasons and times she infuriated us. Not even when I think hard.

But there are some moments that are reminiscent of her. Without the slightest effort.

I have long given up trying to look for reasons why I didn’t appreciate her. I now dedicate this to why I feel I still remember her fondly, inspite of everything.

• Visiting the gurudwara and hearing the same shabad she would be singing without fail every Sunday morning which I could hear while sleeping. I only started to notice after she was gone.
• Remembering each time she picked me up from school because I was taking a guitar lesson that would continue long after school was up.
• Accompanying me and my friends to a picnic which we had been planning for a long time but found at the last minute that none of the elders were willing to take us.
• Always, always making Saturday breakfast for me, of my choice even though it wasn’t breakfast food.
• Giving me tea, each time she prepared it for herself.
• Waking me up at 4:00 a.m with tea, each time I asked her to.
• Knitting miles and miles of kroatia laces and distributing them to everyone she knew.
• All cousins hiding behind her, while playing dark room, in her room.
• Her phrases in sindhi-haaj nasha saayeen- when I was hurt and she was trying to make it all better. I don’t know what it means even now but it was something to do with seeking god’s blessings to make the pain go away.
• Her phrases in sindhi- daaee aahe na-meaning you are a good girl aren’t you- when I was being difficult
• One day when she picked me up from my guitar lesson at school, my teacher said something to her in English which she didn’t understand. Her innocent folding of hands in reply.
• Playing cards ever so often. We (me and my sister) could never get her to go beyond the 3 games she knew.
• Her pair of black scissors that she treasured because it was one amongst the very limited number of things she carried from Pakistan. We could only borrow it if we promised not to cut cardboard with it, which we always did. It would blunt the blade and she would get upset and swear she would never let us touch it again. And it would repeat all over again.
• Her iron which was our savior each time we had a power cut and were in desperate need to iron our clothes. She never used the electric iron ever.
• Her discomfort at seeing ever increasing wrinkles on her face, each time she’d look in the small hand held mirror she had taken from my sister.
• Once, my sister asked her to write the English alphabets after learning that she recognized some. It was an extreme surprise when she wrote them all down.
• My sister and I playing music so loud that we couldn’t hear her yelling at us that the phone was ringing. And her displeasure afterwards, each time in sindhi, The phone kept ringing but you girl’s didn’t hear.

…..

Yeah…there are more that come to mind. I do not want to list them all, lest I lose the feeling of recollection.

A few weeks before she passed, she gave up all signs of recognition. I went home under certain other circumstances that caused me great duress but after I saw her, I knew it would be for the last time.

I think now, it was at that moment when my slate of anger was wiped clean.

Her eyes opened for a second and I saw a glimmer of recognition and a small smile that started to form on her lips. But I guess it was too difficult for her.

I am not sure if there is a meaning hidden behind the goings on of that night, but I am glad I was able to sit through the night and check on her, if only at that minute I thought I was allowing my folks to rest, who had been up for many nights.

I got back to my life a couple of days later and the same day she decided to move on. I didn’t see her.

It has been many years since then and I am pleasantly surprised to note that she keeps coming back to life, in memory.

I guess that’s what grandmothers are for.

I guess i am okay with the realization that once they go, you don't remember them badly. I hope this conviction is not overturned.