Quiet Sunday Morning revisited

"Death, you came without prior warning on that quiet Sunday morning"

Ahh yes, exactly a year ago you cruelly took him away from me, from us.


Where Do We Go From Here?

Exactly a year ago, on a quiet Sunday morning, death crept up on my family and took my grandfather away from us.
Yes, I miss him.
And, I wept, all alone at home.
Damn it, I felt like I was walking through a tunnel all by myself, nothing behind me and nothing to look forward to ahead of me.

And the irony of it, death seemed to play with us again.
Exactly at the call of prayer for maghrib (dusk), the hospital called to say that my maternal grandfather had been warded and is quite ill.

O Death, teasing us yet again.

If you wish to know more about this grandfather of mine who passed on last year, you're welcome to read http://massb.easyjournal.com
I shan't elaborate further here.
And it was exactly a year ago that I moved on from easyjournal.
And this is what I wrote then.

Quiet Sunday Morning

Sometimes, I feel his spirit lingering
in that almost empty room of memories.
The blue and white cap he wore each day,
The walker he used to find his way.
The mattress used as his makeshift bed,
His companion, the bicycle, his trusty aide.

Death, you came without prior warning
on that quiet Sunday morning.

How cruel, how vile,
To take his life away from mine.
How cruel, how vile,
We’ve reached the end of a fine, thin line.

Death, you came without prior warning
on that quiet Sunday morning.

Death, you left me alone, staring,
seeking comfort from a certain little thing,
that goes by the name of love.
My heart had never felt so numb
towards you, there was so much anger,
it was mixed with a dash of thunder.

Death, you came without prior warning
on that quiet Sunday morning.

From the day that I was born
till the day that he passed on,
Memories of yesteryear are all I have
to suffice the rest of my adult life.
I recall the times he cradled me in his arms
to the day I kissed him goodbye thrice.

There is so much guilt in me, God knows why.
Had I been given the chance, I’d tell him this,
A sorry for my sins and a proper goodbye,
A thank you for making life the way it is.

Death, you came without prior warning
on that quiet Sunday morning.

© Mohamad Shaifulbahri

And a year on, I still write such with a heavy heart.

P.S. School, back to you huh?