Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Good-Bye My Dear Brother!

Deva Prasad
It was the most excruciating plane travel we undertook in our lives. We land in ChennaiWe take my brother's mortal remains in an ambulance to my hometown. My cousins have arranged for a motorcade. They considered him the pillar of our family and loved him a lot.

All of my family members have gathered at our house. I hear sobbing and wailing. Everyone is weeping regardless of age or gender. Tears roll down my Dad's cheeks. I run away upstairs with my little niece. It's time for me to tell her what happened to her dad and give her a chance to see him one last time. I hold her tight and tell her that her dad is with Jesus. I assure her that we will all meet him one day. She cries and cries. I let daddy's little girl cry. The little heart refused to see her dad in a casket. 

My uncle drags me out to say Goodbye to my brother. I kiss him Goodbye with a broken heart. The thought of never seeing him again is unbearable. 

I do not visit his grave. I have no desire to visit it ever. I make myself believe he is in a faraway land. He will definitely think about me and keep in touch.

Dear brother, I never thought I would be kissing you GoodbyeI will miss you forever and always. I wonder what life will be like without you. I don't know if I will ever get over the loss of you.  My sweet brother, You win, You win! I don't want to compete with you in this dare. You are the best and the first in everything. I am really sorry that I couldn't keep you here with us! I will come and see you one day in a much better place. Until then, Good-Bye!

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

In Loving Memory of Deva Prasad
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
- Poem by Elizabeth Frye


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