It’s hard sometimes to remember that our paths are of Allah’s choosing when watching someone face an illness to the end; hard to remember. We cremated my Grandad four months before M was born, but in many ways JT had left long before that physical day. In a cruel twist of irony, he suffered a stroke whilst on a walking holiday with my Grandma. In a blink of an eye the healthy, active, argumentative man was gone and trapped in a body that no longer obeyed. In stroke victims, the extent of damage depends on which side of the brain the stroke effects; Grandad suffered a cerebral hemorrhage to the left side of his brain meaning he was left paralysed and unable to speak. Double blow. Oh so so cruel.
As I hum this lullaby to a sleeping M, I remember the beauty of the strength Grandad found those five years following; i recall his smile, the winks goodbye and the laughs we’d laugh so as not to cry. I recall the strength he found when his world was taken away, the same strength we then pulled from him. I hum this song and I remember with pride the way he rose above the illness to make the most of the time we had left, to make his years post-stroke meaningful ones. I hum and I hurt because Grandad will never meet in this life this beautiful little boy whose post-nap hair so resembles his own.
I hum this song and I’m thankful for those extra years, but I can’t help wishing he could hum along just one more time.
Song of the Day – Day 4: a song that makes you sad