As I sit here once again, I came to the realization that I too am petty. Abah had put his anger towards grandpa aside for the care he is obliged by marriage. Losing his own mother a month prior may have made him realize that a loved one lost is painful, even more so to ummi in this case. He’d been through it, and he doesn’t want ummi to feel the same way as him. At least, not with the regret of knowing you didn’t give your all, your time and energy towards parents who gave theirs in your early stage of life.
Perhaps I am enraged by all of this. All of this seem like a play, a charade bleached with pity and sorrow and regret. That is perhaps why I want out. I can’t stand what I perceive as hypocrisy, theirs and mine. That is why I sought an existence unchained to my miserable heart, my miserable self. Looking at him on the bed from the caretaker’s chair, I still strongly think that he ought to be dead by now. I am a horrible person for wishing the unbecoming of him, and I can’t fathom what retribution lies upon me. Will I remain miserable my whole life, or will I die a more horrid death than his? The future holds the answer and may never reveal itself to me until its own unbecoming into the present and subsequently, the past.
Grandpa’s faltered state may not only be a test upon him, but also a test on me as well. A test to see the value of humanity that resides in me, if any were there at all. Stay asleep, grandpa. May your sufferings subside, and mine answered.
26th December 2016