Remembrances and Regrets

"Stop! You're going to hurt yourself! Wait for me, I am right behind you, and you know I'll catch you." said my uncle running after me in my maternal grandpa's house. 

"Would you make food for me then? I don't like aunt's cooking." said the seven year old me. 

"Okay, and I will also put henna on your cute little hands, now stop, will you? Uncle is very tired!" 

I was prepared for my maths exam, and nothing could stop me from getting a perfect hundred. I was going to make everyone proud of me. It was a calm cool spring morning, and I was getting ready for my Mathematics board exam of tenth standard. Suddenly my papa received a call that my uncle who was braving the accident in the hospital, had died. 

I did score full, but there was one less person to make proud. 

And I didn't even visit him. And there wouldn't be anyone who would cook delicious chaat for me back in nanaji's house now. Nobody would spoil me like him anymore. I remember the day when he hugged me and I shrugged him off because hugging was so uncool. He would never come back now. 

A similar thing happened with me in last year's November. I lost a good friend and just a week later, my maternal granddad died. I seldom visited him. I last happened to meet him at a family gathering where my aunt was tying the sanctified thread of marriage. The moment he would be fading, I ponder, he must’ve been contemplating about how I don't care about him and never visited him and don't love him. Most probably not, he was just so loving. But no, I just didn't have the time to talk to him.  My friend would be discerning the same thing. And my uncle too. But I was just too busy with my own life, right? 

I was making, learning, doing things that would make the folks I love the most, proud of me. But never was concerned to really talk and discover it out. How ironic. 

I didn't even see them when they breathed their last breath and they would never know that there was one more person on earth who cared for them. And I would never get to tell them this. They would never know. How would they know unless I tell them? But how can I tell them when they're gone?

I would've been the same Keerti for them.  The Keerti who didn't even see them when they expired. The Keerti who couldn't let them know that she was concerned for them. The Keerti who couldn't even chat with them when she could have. And now they're gone. Far far away, where I won't even find them. Or see them. Or touch them. Or be with them. Or laugh with them.  

If people want to be with you, they make the time to.  I didn't mean to be so full. It wasn't intentional. But that doesn't matter, does it? Nothing matters. It's just me now. My side of the argument. Because they're not here to express their opinion. I want to go tell them that I love them, and that I would spend time with them. And that I would listen to them all the time. I want to meet them. But I can't.

And I don't know who is going to read this entry, since it is not a work of fiction, but I wish they come to know about it. I know they're not here. And it is a loss and I am sorry for it.
But I just want them to know that I love them and miss them and I am never going to forget them.  

I just want them to know, because I think they're there somewhere, maybe waiting for me since I hadn't visited them the last time they breathed, but I want them to know that they were very special for me and would always be. And that I will always miss them. And they would always bring a smile on my face. They were fighters and I will always remember them with great pride. 

I hope they come to know about it, somehow. I hope they forgive me for being too busy. 

I will miss you.

Goodbye.