There's one thing I had always hated about being by your side during the time you were on the death bead. Somehow the good and happy moments that we had together are being overshadowed by the times you were sick and suffering. Rather than remembering you as the one who taught me alphabets and numbers, who bought me an ice cream of my choice on the first of every month, who was my teacher at home, who always told me about the power of positive thinking, who gave me some valuable lessons on life, who paid my school and college fees, and prominently as the one who is most responsible for the better part of me; I remember you as the one who I went along with for those chemotherapy sessions, the one who had asked me in the middle of the night to apply some oil on the neck that was bleeding after an operation, the one who let me press his legs for the first time ever when he was sick, the one whose body and eyes were turning yellow because of the jaundice attack, the one whose forehead I kissed only after his demise, the only one who had tolerated so much pain without heaving a sigh. This could be the only reason why I avoid thinking about you…pushing myself to think something else that did not give me pain.
But dreams are things that I have no control of. And in my dreams I see my grandfather…. alive but always sick with cancer.
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