Final Journey

He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

My brother died of an accident on March 18 at the age of 35, the day of Holi, an Indian festival of colours. He was returning home on his newly bought scooter at midnight from his workplace. A tempo hit in the rear, impact of which threw him off the scooter. He breathed his last on the spot from internal injuries. As a family we could not be there at his last moments to meet his needs as he was a loner in Mumbai. I have the greatest regret that we did not have that one last wonderful talk. I wasn't prepared, for that matter any of us. It has always left me with a feeling that I could have done something better for him.

Between my bro and me we had an age gap of just a year and we grew up together with my maternal grandmother until our early teens as our parents were away in Bombay with other children. Without a father figure around to guide, he fell into bad company and could not complete his High School. Since the situation was getting out of hand, one of our uncles took him along to work in Bombay. My wonderful bro was hard working and within a few years he had carved a niche for himself by having his own business. He was a spendthrift but had a heart of gold. There were times when he would part with the last rupee in his pocket to the needy, if that was what he was asked to do. He loved and lived life.

Seven long years we could not meet each other for some reason or the other. My last meeting was with him during my marriage in Delhi, which he attended and then a brief visit on our way back to Delhi from Mangalore, at the Bombay Central Railway Station. We did keep in touch over the telephone often. Just before he died we did plan to visit him but could not do so due to residency problems of our child – Bahraini laws are peculiar. Instead I was informed he was no more, travelled to Bombay and joined my other two brothers in his final journey home, a place where he was born, to lay him to rest.

Six months later my father suffered a stroke and he too passed away on December 22nd, in his early seventies. He was heartbroken after my brother’s death and could not accept the fact that he was no more.

Years have gone by and memories of both of them still linger but our ability to forget the events with time has helped us get over the pain. No one is promised a tomorrow. I do have some fear about death but I think it is a natural fear of the unknown! I do not why and how, today I miss them very much.. and here is my

Tribute to my Bro & Dad

If tears could build a stairway

and thoughts a memory lane

I'd walk right up to heaven

and bring you home again

No Farewell words were spoken

No time to say good-bye

You were gone before I knew it

And only God knows why.

My heart's still active in sadness

And secret tears still flow

What it meant to lose you

No one can ever know.

But now I know you want us

To mourn for you no more

To remember all the happy times

Life still has much in store.

Since you'll never be forgotten

I pledge to you today

A hallowed place within my heart

Is where you'll always stay.

God knows why, with chilling touch,

Death gathers those we love so much,

And what now seems so strange and dim,

Will all be clear, when we meet Him.

ANONYMUS