I woke up weeping.
With tears running down my cheeks but I wasn’t sad
Not this morning
Not when it happened – when Nana died.
He was heavy when he passed.
Heavy in my arms as if
the weight of his world on his shoulders
was suddenly mine to bear. It wasn’t. Lucky me.
My mother was right there.
My grandmother was right there.
I remember the commotion. I remember the silence echoing in my head
ringing between my ears piercing the sanctity of mourning.
Huddled around the body – gaunt and fragile
draped in onion-skin.
I remember
Looking on at tears shed, forcing them out myself.
I hadn’t known him. I had known of him.
I woke up weeping.
Tears running down my cheeks. I wasn’t sad.
Not this morning.
Not when it happened.
Faiz Vagh is a 22-year old writer based in Bangalore.
Featured image credit: Alex McCarthy/Unsplash