My Dark Winter

 

I will never forget the last time that I saw my Grandfather before the ambulance arrived.

He was sat in his chair forcing himself to finish off his lunch whilst trying to navigate video calls from family members.

he told me not to cry and that he would be returning home in a few days.

After two courses on anti-biotics his chest infection and terrible cough wasn’t improving. He gradually grew weaker till he struggled to eat a full meal.

My father and Uncles agonised over the decision of whether to send him to hospital for treatment.

With his deteriorated state, they were left with no other choice but to send him knowing he may never come back.

I kept begging my uncles not to let him go. Despite my protests the ambulance was called. I was afraid I may never see him again.

I had always remembered my Grandfather as a fighter.

At 94 years old he had witnessed WWII, the Partition of India and a triple heart bypass. He would always tell me stories of his career in the Navy and his journey to the UK.

I thought that he would also survive this illness like he survived everything else in his life. If there was anyone I knew who had strength, will and determination it was my grandfather.

Scarred by the aftereffects of stroke 10 years previously, he lived on his own while being supported by his sons and daughter in laws. He had become completely bed bound and relied on the help of carers daily. 

In spite of that he never once complained of his condition or the chronic loneliness he endured. He had full hope that God would one day heal him, and he would walk again.

When reaching five days in hospital we were informed that he was in a stable condition.

There were even signs that he may be recovering from his ordeal. I was waiting for the days when he would soon return home.

Then the dreaded phone rang from the hospital telling my father to come and quickly see him.

Unaware of the call that morning I woke to the cry of my little sister.

“He has gone!” she shrieked

“Dajee (grandpa) is not coming back”

A wave of anger washed over me. I couldn’t help but feel furious at the nurses for refusing to provide him with adequate care.

I needed someone to blame. Someone who didn’t do their job properly which led to the demise of my grandfather.

Family members consoled me by saying that it was his time to go. He was suffering from many underlying health conditions and he couldn’t continue fighting any longer. There was no point in me blaming anyone over it.

 

My grandfather didn’t leave us without giving us a small gift.

 He’d managed to pass the viral gift to my dad and Uncles. This affected everyone in my household most severely my dad and brother.

Seeing the entire family so sick, my father in quarantine and losing my grandfather took its toll on me. My anxiety flared up as I also began to get symptoms of the virus.

Because of the illness me and my family were temporarily outcasts. We all had to quarantine needing to rely on my extended family to meet basic needs.

When all of this was going on my family had to arrange my grandfather’s funeral.

 His body was prepared the next day for funeral. It was time for me to say my goodbyes to him.

I couldn’t think of a worse time in the world for a person to pass away.

At the local mosque in Grangetown was the final time I saw his face. He had such a serene expression as if he was sleeping in his casket.

I wanted to stay longer with him but was eventually dragged away crying by my mum.

There wasn’t any space or time for us to grieve and share the emotions of suddenly losing him.

Passing by masked members of my family was the hardest. Not being able to have that comforting touch when I needed it most was terrible.

Unable to see the faces of those around me made the whole funeral seem so unrealistic. There were no tears only hidden faces and buried grief.

A part of me still wonders if he had really passed away. I still try to imagine him back in his house, sitting on his chair waiting for someone to visit him.

A week later everyone’s health began improving. We all started to slowly recovering from the symptoms and were soon out of isolation.

Even after we all recovered we won’t forget the mark COVID has left in our lives.

This story I tell is not only my own story but is part of the stories of countless others who have also suffered during this crisis.

If you are in isolation at the moment know that you are not alone. There are many who are in your shoes and have come out the other side.

You will get through this because you are stronger and more resilient than you can imagine.

The human spirit had always triumphed against adversity even in the most difficult circumstances. This is evident throughout our history as humanity surviving countless diseases, pestilence and pandemics.

COVID is just another in a long line of viruses which we will one day overcome and defeat till it remains just a footnote in the books of history.

I  anticipate the arrival of spring in which we can all leave this dark winter behind and move towards a future with brighter days full of hope, health and happiness.