Grandparents

Bismillah...

I long for the people I never get to meet.

What peculiar dream I had

There was a car workshop with an assembly of toy cars lining up infront

While some mechanics were busy doing their tasks, another couple were entertaining the children

Teaching them how to fix the toy cars themselves

Amongst them was a grandfather

Teaching his grandson

Everyday, this would be his routine

Children would sit out infront, learning new things which the elders would taught with patience

This particular grandfather was particularly loved by them

...one day, he was no more

Old age and his time had come

And her daughter, their mother would wipe off the bench table from sawdust and eraser dust

A single tear started and she just silently clean the place 

Unable to contain her love, her memory of her father, and their grandfather

I woke up bewildered

Was the love of that family that profound that I even dreamt it?

For the first time, I cried missing my own grandparents

Never had a chance to meet them

Or at least one grandmother who was too old to entertain us or we got to know her

I was probably six or seven when she died

What do I learn?

That grandparents are equivalent to presence? wisdom? Unconditional love?

Have I ever felt it, not knowing them all this while?

I do. 

When my parents recall the memory of their father and mother with aching fondness

They are our grandparents

They're old and they simply leave when its time

But someone grieve of their loss

Because they are their own father, own father

...and no matter how old they are

You can't help but miss them, remember them

...and when you do, you revert to this child-form

Eyes wide in bewilderment

Aching for the calussed hand to take your own

Of protection, of guidance, of boundless affection

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