He laid there, helpless. His eyes stared at the wall and never greeted us when we entered the room. The eyes that I once only thought reflected life had disappeared and were abducted by the feeling of giving up. His eyes were always a gentle brown colour from what I remember but now the pigment had faded. I began to examine his appearance more and realized it was not just the colour of his eyes that faded but he had become pale. The man all the grandchildren had received their genetically chipmunk cheeks from had no longer inherited it himself. His cheeks sunk as if he had been on a major contouring scheme, unfortunately that was not the situation. I could tell that he was trying to manage to smile but was struggling. There was always something extremely comforting about his smile because of how infectious it was. The grin had the power to give you hope, and at that moment all I needed was his smile. He stopped trying after awhile when he realized his level of strength capacity was quite low.I remember when we were little he had a habit of snapping to get our attention and once he did, we would get one facial expression in return which was his eyes increasing in size and his eyebrows wiggling.He successfully make us laugh without hesitation.He had a habit of talking with hands, kind of where I get it from, but now he could barely lift those hands from the side of the bed. The man who used to be known for independence was seeking our help to let him live one more night.My grandfather was the life of the party, he had a never-ending stories to tell us and lullabies to sing to us. He was my role model, my inspiration. The man who was laying on that bed was not someone I remembered.It was a tragedy but the sad truth. Time was running out and before death decided to greet my grandfather at door he looked at every single one of us smiled for the last time. His eyes shut and by then I knew cancer had consumed my grandfather.
Asna A
Image Credit- AceMason