They say when the ones we love pass away, time will work its way out, that time solely will heal the wound they leave in our hearts and within years we will be able to forget their memories, but I doubt that!From my experience, I learned we never forget those we love; we only learn to live when they can not be around no more.
My Grandfather died long time ago during the civil war between PUK & KDP in 1996. I was almost Seven when he passed away. Among my grandparents, he is the only one I remember being so close to me. Shareff was his name and ever since, I use his name instead of my father’s name, almost all the times as a symbol of love to him.
I still remember a lot of things about him. I remember what he was wearing most beside the traditional Kurdish clothes. I remember the small clock he was carrying with him in his pocket all the time. I remember his smile. Yet, no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember his voice…
When I was a child, I used to be disobedient and stubborn and some were calling me “the rebel one” I was often beating up kids in the street, in school and I often was in trouble. My Grandfather was my angel guard. He was my hero. Whenever I was in trouble, he was the one I would go to help and protect me.
I remember the day when I was fighting with one of my cousins. That day I was in a big trouble as I knocked my cousin down with a stick. He is a year younger than me. He started crying and told my mom about it. I knew my mom is going to punish me like always so I run as fast as I could to my Grandpa’s arms.I will never forget when my Grandpa told my mom if she touches even a hair of me, he will get really mad at her!
Hence, everyday was the same story. I would make troubles and Grandpa was always there to stop the whole world from hurting me.
Holding me in his arms, gave me sense of protection and safety. The warmth of his arms and the comfort of his words were my world. Being rebel, I always had to do things all alone. Nobody was handling me or the troubles with me. My Grandfather was the one who saved me from loneliness. His love gave me so much power and encouragement.
A lot of nights he comes to my dream and we talk! We talk about him, about my father and about me like we used to talk when he was alive.
Once I had a dream about him. In my dream he seemed tired and the White attire was still twisted around him. I was so afraid to talk to him. This time everything was different. It wasn't like other dreams I had about him before. This time I didn't see my Grandpa, rather I saw I dead man came out from his grave. Then I saw him approaching me and asking me not to be afraid of him. That night, he told me he is not dead and he never left me and never will. I wasn't afraid anymore. I woke up in the morning and I felt his presence around me. It brought back to me all the sweet memories with him.
The moment he passed away, I was sitting right beside his bed. I was looking into his eyes and I couldn't believe that my Grandfather was just a dead man laying on the bed, just a body without soul and a heart without beats. When he died, he was looking at the sky. Those images are rooted in my mind and every time I think about them, they bring tears to my eyes.
I miss him a lot. I miss those days when he was always around me and I miss the feeling of being completely protected.
I miss when he was giving me candies every time I was crying. I miss his words and the stories he used to tell.
Since he died, years taught me patience, but it never taught me how to forget him and I know it never will. As seasons change and we learn to adapt with them, I only learned to adapt living, without him.
|this is a framed photo of my Grandpa. It's the only photo remained from him.|
This article was written in August 15, 2010.