Grandma's Tombstone

My grandma was on her deathbed, or so I was told. Come before it's too late, my father said. So I changed two planes, travelled for twenty-six hours and finally reached my parents' home. I found her in bed alright, weak and frail, but alert and active in mind. 

"My little one! You have come!" Grandma embraced me. She took my face in her palms and gave me a kiss. Her fingers were cold and bony. 

"How are you Mami?"

"Oh, I am all right. Your father is making quiet a fuss about it. Did he tell you that I am dying?" She asked with a grin. "That rascal has been thinking so since the last ten years. But I ain't leaving anytime soon," she winked, and I couldn't help but smile. 

Her strength gave way. She let me go and collapsed on the pillows. "I can finally die in peace now." She closed her eyes.

"Mami," I panicked.

She opened one eye and said in mock anger, "I ain't dead yet!"

"Don't you say such things, Mami" I said.

"Just like your mother, aren't you? She too tells me not to talk of death," Grandma opened her other eye. "Now dear, listen to me, I have a wish. I don't trust any of these people with it. You are the only one who can help me." She clasped my hand in hers, "Will you fulfil my last wish?"

Last wish. When she put it this way, I was overcome with emotion. My Mamii, whose love seemed to have no bounds and whose smile never faded, was dying. Whenever I would visit her, she would prepare all my favourite dishes. And when she would visit me, she would bring a bag full of toys. She would smother me with kisses, hug me several times the day, and would generally embarrass me in front of my friends. She belonged to that school of thought that believed in showing love through food. She would forever be imploring me to eat just one more bite, even though my tummy would be bursting. 

My beloved grandmother was asking me to fulfil her last wish. I burst into tears.

"Boy, don't cry," she said sweetly. "You hold a special place in my heart. It was through you that I re-lived my own child's growing-up years. When my son, your father, was growing up, I was too busy making ends meet. Didn't even realise when time passed and he grew up. Then you came along. You have given me so much joy that I can't describe in words." She had tears in her eyes.

"Do one last thing for me, dear," she continued. "Will you?"

"Sure Mami, whatever you say." 

"Make a tombstone for me. I will tell you what to write on it."

A tombstone? My grandma was talking about her own tombstone. I could hardly comprehend her. Then she explained herself, "Look, if I leave it to these people, they will make a boring tombstone. Wife of...mother of....born... died... I don't want this on my tombstone."

I was perplexed, "What do you want Mami?"

"Something different."

"Different?"

"Yes, I have it all planned out," she confided. Her talk was confusing me to no end. "Open that top drawer," she pointed to the wardrobe that was as old as herself, if not more. I did as told. There was a notepad in it. She bid me bring it to her. She flipped the pages till she found what she was looking for. "Read it," she pushed the notepad towards me.

The page was filled with flowing cursive. I struggled to read it, for the hand that wrote it wasn't as steady as it used to be.

Small is the world

Smaller my grave

Hope to see you soon 

In heaven or in hell

But if you miss the bus

Or choose to stay back here

I won't rest in peace

Till I see you there.

I burst out laughing. "You want this on your tombstone?" 

She was smiling broadly. "Death isn't as bad as it is laid out to be. Moreover, I want to leave a lasting imprint."

I planted a kiss on her wrinkled forehead and promised her that it would be done. She died in her sleep four days later. I kept my promise. And as she had predicted, people remembered her as the lady with the quirky tombstone.