A Death Like Every Other

A short story about the time my grandmother passed away.

It was the first day of Ramadan, and it was almost time for us to break our fasts with a ripe date from Saudi Arabia, but here we were.

“Go to the other room,” said my mom, choking on tears as she sent me out of the room. The whole family had gathered around my grandmother as she lay on her bed, unconscious. She was on the verge of death, and I wasn’t allowed to be there with her. I sat outside her room, listening to my family sobbing and praying. Fear gripped me, and I knew everyone else was scared too.

“What can I do?” I thought to myself. I sat there, alternating between thinking and crying. This was the first time anyone I was close to was dying. With nothing to do, I waited until I could be summoned. Slowly, the sky darkened, the prayers and tears continued, and my thoughts crowded my brain, leaving me feeling helpless.

Suddenly, I heard a scream from my aunt. I rushed into the room and saw my mom shedding a couple of salty tears. I had never seen her make that face before. Everything was so confusing. “What’s happening?” I thought. Trying to clear my head, I looked around the room and saw everyone crying — my aunts, uncles, siblings, parents, and cousins. All of them were in tears. Finally, I noticed my grandmother. She was there, on her cloudy bed with her mouth open and her eyes facing the angel who had taken her soul. My family started comforting each other, forgetting that I was in a state of disarray.

I was only eleven, and I had seen something I couldn’t understand. I had many unanswered questions as we all went to break our fasts and have dinner. On our way to the dining room, my brother came home from work, hoping to alleviate the family’s mournful worries without knowing the news. He approached her room, his smile slowly fading away. Before he could enter, our grandfather embraced him and wept, saying, “She’s gone. Shamim Jan is gone.”

We ate our food, shared a few subdued laughs, and prayed. After all our duties were complete, my father and I entered her room and saw that her mouth was still open. My father grabbed a scarf and gently covered her face, closing the door to all the joys she had brought us. I sat right next to her cold corpse, lost in a bloody sea of thoughts.

“Since when was life so miserable?” I thought to myself as I became engulfed in the maroon ocean inside of me.