At The Death-Bed, a Sweet Moment of Love

Hello friends,

My grandfather (baba) was taken to the hospital at 10am after his brief spell of fainting. I was out working the whole morning and afternoon and only managed to come to the hospital in the evening at 6pm. A lot of people had gathered in front of the ICU unit, and only two to three people were allowed inside the ICU.

Later on towards the night, as there were less people there, I took my grandmother on the wheelchair inside to see baba. He had a breathing tube inside his mouth, and was breathing heavily through the pipe, making gasping noises. He had an IV needle in his arm, and a pulse-reader on his finger. Will this be his last night? I could not bear to think about it. I still held on to the hope that he will hold on to his life. After sitting there for a while, my uncle suggested that I take my grandmother home since she was so exhausted being at the hospital all day long.

She was not getting up from her seat. She wanted to be by his side for as long as she could. I grabbed hold on to her arm and motioned her to let us leave. She asked for a minute alone with baba, and I let her be. From behind the screen, I saw a very powerful image of love manifested in what my grandmother did. From as early as I can remember, I never saw my grandparents show any display of emotions or love to each other in front of others. They were always reserved and maintained a certain kind of relationship in front of others, which never really displayed any signs of love. But tonight, what my grandmother did with baba broke dissipated all those memories and proved to me that love is indeed the strongest bond that can hold two people together.

She got up from her chair, and leaned over to baba, whom doctors had said has gone into a coma. She held on his arm so lovingly, and then spoke something into his ears. I don’t know what she said, but she spoke for what seemed like a long time. With her other hand, she fixed up his hair and rubbed his forehead, just in the same way a mother pats her child with love. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I had never seen my grandmother show any physical display of love to baba, and yet here, she was doing everything. After fixing his hair, she leaned over a little bit further and kissed his forehead.

“Allah-hafiz,” was all that she said.

I helped her into the wheelchair, and she said to me, “This may be the last time I see your baba alive.” So overcome with emotion, I quickly went up to my baba and kissed him on his forehead and whispered into his ears, “Baba, this is Mansur. I want you to know that I am praying for you and that I will be remembering you.”

I left the ICU unit with my grandmother. We eventually came home at midnight. For the next three hours, that one image of my grandmother leaning over to kiss my baba on his forehead was imprinted into my mind as a very powerful image of love between my grandparents, who I saw for the first time in my life as a husband and wife, and not as mere grandparents. I saw for the first time my grandparents as a couple, who were once young like us, who have feelings for each other even at this age. It was such a sweet moment for me to take in.

The phone rang at 3am. My mom jumped out of bed.

“Mansur. I have to go the hospital. It’s not good news.”

I stayed back home with my 10 year-old cousin, while my mom and grandmother went to the hospital.

3:30am, several people came home. I opened the door.

With a single eye contact from my other cousin, I knew baba was no more.

---Mansur