Second Life
written by: Sudha Vishwanath
@Sudhavish1
Of all the three-hundred and sixty-five days in a year, why did Granny choose this particular day, my first day at work, to breathe her last?
“Cardiac arrest,” the doctor pronounced. His professional work done, he left while the family members struggled to come to terms with whatever the doctor had pronounced just then.
How unpredictable is life? Granny, who was hale and hearty till the day before, was suddenly gone, leaving us all in profound shock and disbelief.
Well, age was not on her side. She was in her early eighties but had no pre-medical condition. With her sugar level at its best, she cherished sweets at this age without any prejudice. Her strong teeth also helped her relish savouries with a hard texture.
Granny’s calm demeanor and lack of health issues, in contrast to her contemporaries who often complained of escalated blood pressure, was a stark contrast that highlighted the irony of her sudden passing.
At the age of twenty-four, even I complained of occasional aches, but Granny never fussed about her health. She was as young as eighteen at eighty.
Once, we summoned our family physician home when Dad fractured his ankle after falling from the stool. The doctor looked at all our family members and gave that recognizing smile but stopped abruptly upon seeing Granny. It was only on that day that the family physician knew about this particular member of the family. Granny had never visited the doctor before.
And then she passed away just like that!
“Lucky soul,” said some burdened with caring for ailing elders at home.
“You know my father has been bedridden for half a decade. Ask me how difficult it is to nurse a bed patient, though I have help 24/7,” grumbled Dad’s friend. “You are fortunate to have been spared such ordeal,” he opined.
While people spoke whatever they felt, my mind was muddled. It was a whirlwind of various velocities.
As I prepared for my first day of work, filled with excitement and anticipation, the shadow of Granny’s departure cast a pall over my joy.
After much job-hunting, I landed this lucrative job in a bank—the kind of job profile I had been looking forward to. Everything fitted into the groove except for my short-tempered manager. His permanent scowl on his face and his ever-creased eyebrows gave me constant jitters during my final interview.
“The bank commences work at 8 in the morning. However, I expect the staff to be present fifteen minutes before that to usher in and welcome the first customer without delay.” He almost gave me a first warning. My look confirmed that I was lethargic, and he hated tardy people like my Granny.
Granny was overwhelmed when I shared the happy news of my job. She had her apprehensions about my punctuality, though. Her brows permanently furrowed in disgust whenever she found me hurrying due to my tardiness.
I was going to surprise my grandmother by getting ready well before time today, but destiny had other plans.
Only a miracle would transport me to my office on time today.
How could I, Margaret Smith’s only grandson, leave before the Octagenarian’s funeral procession, starting at 8 a.m.?
Juggling my work responsibilities on the first day and honoring Granny’s passing was a daunting task, one that I had to face head-on despite the emotional turmoil it caused.
It was 8 a.m. My heart began beating fast as I realized it was time for the bank to start working. Employees might have taken their seats, and the manager might be scouring the premises for me, his scowl getting intense every moment.
Relatives and friends continued pouring in, each carrying a wreath, a testament to the many lives Granny had touched with her warmth and kindness.
Granny was dressed up in her favorite blue gown for her funeral procession.
“Have you informed your office?” Dad mumbled into my ears. He looked disturbed. It was hard to say whether the gloom over his countenance was due to his mother’s sudden demise or his son’s lateness on the very first day at work.
“I will leave after the funeral,” I said. Dad nodded.
When the funeral was over, it was 9:30 a.m. I was about to leave when Uncle Joe, our neighbor, came rushing in.
“Dear Harry,” he said, embracing me. “In her death, your Grandmother has given you a new life, showing how much she loves you.”
His outburst took me by surprise. My parents and others present were equally confused by Uncle Joe’s words.
“There has been a blast in the building where you were supposed to start work today. Several people are feared to have perished. Thank the Lord that you were late, and thank your Granny.” Uncle Joe said, once again hugging me with warmth.
Tears rolled down my mother’s cheeks. She embraced me, crying and saying a prayer to the Lord.
“The life you have now is a gift from your Granny,” my dad said. His physique shivered at the thought of what might have happened if I had left on time.
My mind wandered to the premises where my bank was situated. The manager’s stern face hovered around my vision.
“Lord, I do not mind working under a strict manager; please show some sympathy towards a man who works so earnestly, giving respect to punctuality.” I prayed, hoping some miracle had saved the manager and the other staff in my office, though something inside me said I was asking for too much. The devastation has been that massive!
Though ridden with guilt at my selfishness, I sighed in relief and thanked the Lord for this second life.
Indeed, in her death, Granny had given me a second life. Otherwise, why would a person hale and hearty die just like that? A profound sense of gratitude towards Granny passed through my mind.
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