Letting Go...

I cleaned my Granddad’s cupboards today. After exactly 10 months and 20 days I took the courage and cleaned it all up. All the clothes we had shopped together, his shoes we bought at Bata and his formal pants which he always marked with a black cross so they wouldn’t get mixed up with anyone else’s clothes.

It wasn’t easy at all. I cried all the way through that cleaning. When I threw his favourite old leather bag and held his favourite shirt against me, I still smelt him. His smell, so peculiar to my nose that I could recognize it in my dreams as well. His favourite socks, which he so religiously wore. His handkerchiefs that he never forgot to carry cause id always ask for one. It was so difficult to let go off those things; it felt like I was letting him go away from my life.

Then, I realized nothing could separate me from him and his memories. All these materialistic things were just proofs of his existence but his memories and his voice and his touch will always remain with me. They would be inseparable. His handwriting on the piece of paper saying “please call my grand daughter namrata” will always remain with me, making me realize that he’s here, always. By my side.
I miss him so much today. I so wish he was here.
Its never easy to let go of something you've loved so much..is it? I so hate let going..isn't it possible to deal with it in another way?..:(

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.