To, David the Great

It’s been almost five years since I’ve lost one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever known in this life.
Right now, however, pain has been swept away with this bittersweet hollow feeling.
Time, perhaps, does that to you. It wipes away the impending sorrow, the unnecessary tears and teaches you to live with the absence of a loved one, like he was never there before.
Time worked for me better, because when he died I was hardly eleven. My memories of him are glossy, hazy sometimes.
But the memories do last, they remain as an undying sign that even what is lost, is not.

David, in my memories, is my dorky older brother.
We’re not related, not even remotely. But we just happened to stay in buildings that were one behind another.
He loved music. He played the piano and was crazy on his electric guitar. He was the one who gave me all my piano books. It was on his grand piano where I practice for all my exams. No matter how bad I was, I sounded good to him. He gave me a thumps up for every note I played. His cupboard was an entirely different affair. He has pictures of rock artist and bands that I’d never even heard about (What’s Cream Bizcuit?) and had all the Pokemon cards, that I longed for and admired.
We went to the same place for tuition, and he’d wait for me everyday. There was this big road to cross on the way back home and my mother’s fears were put to rest only because she knew David would be there holding my hand. Sometimes he would even take me home on his bicycle.
And remembering bicycles. Do you remember the first time you learnt to ride one? Without the side wheels?
Cause I do. It was a dark evening, and I was sure David was holding my cycle from behind as I wheeled. So sure, that I wheeled even faster, without realizing that I was riding it on my own, for the first time. I’m always of getting hurt, but he took that fear away.
There were so many perks of being his sister, not to forget the chocolates he bought me.

The day I went to visit him in the hospital, with his kidneys failed and more than just a tint of malaria and typhoid in his system, I knew I was going to see him again. I wasn’t allowed into his ward, cause I was little, but from where I was I could see tubes and big machines all connected to him. It was unreal. It wasn’t meant to be. The pain, the damage, wasn’t deserving.
And that’s what my nana said, he didn’t deserve to suffer.
And so he went.

I don’t remember a lot about David. I wish I did. But the little that’s left, is enough for me to keep him in my heart forever.
This is to you, David the Great, the kind, the loving, the helpful, the funny, the caring, the rockstar…. The Best.
You truly were you.




3 thoughts on “To, David the Great

  1. it’s beautiful. David, though?

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