But when it came to her relationship with other people I always thought she could do better. In her books what she was doing was right, well to others, it wasn't all that appealing. Why do I say so? Here's an example, whenever our hired help was back from buying groceries, Grandma would make sure she counted the number of fish she got. Well most of us found it slightly discomforting that she should soil her hands with fish scales and rummage through the groceries to accomplish the feat. The lady who got the groceries thought Grandma didn't trust her. My grandma's explanation was that she wanted to find out how many fishes she got for the same amount of money week after week. She used fish as her dipstick to measure inflation in the economy. Well right and wrong are relative terms I guess.
She spoke to me rather briefly, she would ask me to bring her the newspaper, her glasses, occasionally she asked me to put her cataract medication for her. I stuck around for sometime to find out if she was interested in having a conversation, seldom did I succeed.
I liked having conversations with her, because I wanted to find out more about how people lived, what did they do, how were things when she was young. On one occasion I got lucky, she gave me some glimpses of her childhood. I learnt that she liked swimming, her parents were into agriculture and the produce was directly sold by the cultivator in the market. She and her siblings used to sell what they grew in the market. I couldn't find out if she was fond of her parents, how was the relationship between her and her siblings, how did she meet my grandpa and how was it living with him? She was secretive, this increased my curiosity.
We were not the best of friends, she and I, but I admired her.I knew she had had tough times, and now it was her turn to relax and have things her way. I hardly intervened, or better, I did not exist on her list.
I was employed some distance away from my grandmother's house, say a day's journey by train. I used to go and visit her whenever I needed a break, well I'm not sure how far she waited for me to come or liked to see me, but I would like to believe she felt the same as me.
One fine Sunday afternoon, when I was about to take a nap, my cousin called me, and said that my grandma was no more, she passed away a few minutes ago. She died a peaceful death, when all her kids were around her, and almost all her grandchildren were there too. I wasn't.
I did not cry, I was slightly shocked. I did not know how to react, because I didn't know if she ever loved me. Well, I decided to go and pay her my respect nonetheless. I hopped on into the next train, my friend helped me get a seat, but I still could not decide if she wanted me by her side.
When I reached home I saw her lying covered in white roses and lilies.I was not sure if she approved of it, because she scolded us when we plucked flowers from the garden. She looked emaciated. All who were around looked sad. May be all of us felt the void.
I did not cry, we reached the ancestral church, finally the yard.
Then just as she was being lowered into the earth, a thought ran across my mind, was she angry with me, did I wrong her in some way? Could not pin point anything, but this was my last chance. In my mind I spoke to her, I told her I was sorry, do not know what I had done wrong but I did say sorry, just then a small drop of tear broke loose from my eye, it ran down my face and dropped to the ground, beside her.
There's a void where she used to be, it has been there for a few years. Last Sunday I got a call, my aunt said there will be a mass commemorating her.
I decided not to go.
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