I also remember the day he died.
He passed from being my grandfather to being an inanimate object quietly, without telling anyone. He just went. None of his four sons and eight daughters were prepared for it, and only a few family members were present to see him go. I wasn't among those who were. I foolishly went about my life as I normally did on the day of his death, expecting him to return from the hospital and be himself again, sitting on the living room floor and drinking his tea.
I couldn't even recognise the thing lying in the hospital bed when I saw it. It was thin and hollow. It was nothing like my grandfather. I thought there had been a mistake. The life support systems were not turned off for some reason. The thing looked like it was still breathing.
I don't think I ever got over his death, although it was easier to come to terms with it after the house that he lived in was sold. It was hard to step into that old living room without expecting to see him sitting there again, crosslegged and taking his tea just like the way he used to do, looking as healthy as an ox or some other large, powerful animal, virile and full of life.
He looked like he would live forever.
