In The Quiet Of Night, Grandpa Slipped Away

I just want to know how long it will take me to remember those empty eyes without my heart breaking

Boy Leaning Beside An Old Man — photo by Pritam Kumar on

I was sprawling on my bed reading under the dim lamp when my phone rang. I glanced over and saw Uncle’s number. It was almost midnight, everyone was already asleep. I didn’t know the purpose of this late-night call. Propped myself up. Cross-legged on the bed, I picked up.

He tells me Mom and Dad didn’t pick up, so he called me. It’s okay, I say. I haven’t slept yet. Mom and Dad are early birds. They put their phones on Sleep Mode when they go to bed. I ask him if there is something I should let them know. Then he sighs. Tells me Grandpa’s gone. Slipped out the door.

I am staring at the lamp, hypnotized by the yellow and orange glow it casts. That’s all I can see, a bokeh of light and shadow. I see, I whisper. We’ll be there soon. Then I hang up.

I scooch to the edge of my bed. Squeeze my eyes closed, rocking back and forth. No tears, though. Doesn’t matter. I lost him long ago. We lost him long ago. Since he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease.

Stand and inhale. Walk barefoot to the living room. The whole room is soaked in darkness except for the twinkling green light on the WiFi router. Stand. Stare…