The Anxious Wait To Pain

   My grandfather’s illness was hard enough for my sensitive self, but when my father tested positive for COVID-19 for the second time, I had almost lost my mind. Sudden bouts of dread occupied my heart and mind, leaving me unable to completely focus on my studies. Because of the situation, my grandmother and my grandfather had moved in with us. There were lots of problems with me. Two of them being the following. Overthinking situations that are a little hard for me, and inability to open up to or even trust people and getting help from them. On that specific day, I was in my room, trying to take my mind off the situation. My mother entered the room, knowing that I was particularly upset about the recent happenings. But in reality I was more than upset. 

   

“Milly dear, are you alright?” She asked me, coming in. I nodded as I bent over my math homework, trying to concentrate on it. I hummed in reply. My mother sighed. She came closer to me and sat down next to me.

   

   “Milly, we all know you’re upset. Your father’s alright. He’ll be back from quarantine in a few days. And your grandfather’s responding well to the treatment. He’ll be okay. I know it’s a little hard for you, especially when you’re just a teenager, but everything is alright, dear. We need you to stay strong, especially when your sister is around, since she can’t understand what’s going on,” She told me. I hummed again in response. My mother sighed and got up again. 

“If you need something, tell me. Alright?” My mother was worried too and I knew I was worrying her about my own health. I hummed one more, since I wanted to be alone at that time and wanted to get my mind off of the things that are going on in the real world. She went outside my room and walked off into the kitchen. I wanted to cry at that time, but I couldn’t. I closed my math textbook in frustration. I wasn’t able to focus, and I wasn’t able to understand anything either. I had been dealing with the news that my grandfather had his illness for half a year. My father has had COVID-19 for almost a week, and he was almost good enough to get out of quarantine. A few days passed and both my father was completely alright, which put my mind half at peace. My grandfather had improved by a little bit. That was also some comforting news for me. I, who was a very pessimistic person, actually found some hope. Things started going uphill. My grandfather was responding really well to the treatment. For an entire month, his condition had been improving really fast. All of our hopes were really high, and we were all very confident that he would recover, and, unfortunately, let our guard down.

   After a few days, there was a sudden decrease in his level of energy. He was asleep most of the time. My parents took him to the doctor, and realized that he had caught an extra infection, which might take a long time to cure, because of the initial condition he was going through. His condition neither improved, nor worsened for an entire month, and at that time, my school had given us a lot of work. By the end of the month, the infection worsened and he was very weak. He barely came out of his room. That one week, I had been so busy, I could barely come out of my room. The situation made my anxious mind worse as my grandfather’s health worsened so drastically that he had to be admitted to the hospital. Those two days were more of a blur to me. 

   The dreaded day came. My mother woke me up at seven o’clock in the morning, and took me out of my room, since my sister was sleeping.

   “Milly, I’m sorry. Your grandfather…” She stuttered. I couldn’t hear anymore of what she said, as I knew what she was going to say. Tears filled my eyes, threatening to fall off. I was led downstairs to say my last goodbyes to my grandfather, before he was taken to the cremation ceremony, where I wasn’t allowed to be in. All of my relatives were invited to the last rites ceremony of my grandfather and the entire atmosphere was gloomy, and if it weren’t for my cousin, I might have never cheered up. 

   “Poor Milly! Just thirteen years of age. The poor girl is already so sensitive and constantly locks herself in her room. She’s probably going to be worse from now on. It might even take her years to recover from the shock,” I heard a relative say, and I daresay it’s true. I has been four months and I am struggling to get over it, but with the help of my adorable sister and my amazing friends, I have been able to keep my peace. In the end, please remember that family is the most important thing in life. You never know how much time one has left, so spend some time with your family. The deep regret and guilt of not spending enough time with my grandfather that I felt, might not be yours to feel when you experience the same