^ I read this book. I'm not planning on writing a book review. Somehow, the words 'touching' and 'beautiful' or even 'heart-warming' aren't enough to describe it.
Wistful, probably. At any rate, I found myself answering the question Mr. Albom asks, "What would I do if I had one more day with someone I’ve lost?”
I would have said my grandfather, without a blink of my eye, because my grandfather was the most important man for me. But, I pondered for a while. My answer would be my grandmother. I would like to spend one more day with her, if I ever get to.
'My father once told me, "You can be a mama's boy or a daddy's boy. But you can't be both."
I would like to modify this a bit. I have always liked to be identified as my grandfather's girl. I have his temper and his ego to some extent. I can be scornful like he was. I have his practical bent of mind. I'm good at Maths.
To Patti (grandmom), I was always her girl from day one. But, to me, I became her girl only after my grandfather died. She had always been a significant part of my life, undoubtedly, but it took me a while to realize that. By then it was too late.
I could get away with yelling when she would bombard me with her childlike questions, which seemed so irrational and pointless to a teenager returning home after a long, yet useless day in college. Or when she wouldn't let me watch my favourite episode of "How I Met Your Mother" without having described her day.
I would promise to play carom with her each time she visited us. I guess I broke them all the time and she being the soft soul that she was, never minded my forgetfulness. Mere words were enough for her. During her last days, I told her I'd play Rummy with her. I never did.
She loved Bollywood movies and slapstick comedies. I can count the number of times we watched movies together. I was lazy enough to not walk to the nearest DVD library and rent a DVD for the weekend.
Almost 7 out of 10 times, I preferred spending time with my grandfather over her. Was that wrong? I don't know. I probably ran out of patience explaining stuff to her.
And yet she didn't mind. She swallowed my rudeness, my irritation and annoyance at her ignorance about the so-called worldly things.
Because I was her girl.
For all those times I did not stand up for her, she stood up for me.
I probably didn't realize or I shrugged her away, hence that, was the one time I majorly let her down I suppose.
So if I do get one more day with Patti, I would spend it by playing carom, watching stupid movies, eating ice-creams, gossiping about our old neighbours, and answering her every question in detail. I would like to have that one meaningful conversation with her, that we should have had ages ago, but never did.
For one more day. That's all.
Wistful, probably. At any rate, I found myself answering the question Mr. Albom asks, "What would I do if I had one more day with someone I’ve lost?”
I would have said my grandfather, without a blink of my eye, because my grandfather was the most important man for me. But, I pondered for a while. My answer would be my grandmother. I would like to spend one more day with her, if I ever get to.
'My father once told me, "You can be a mama's boy or a daddy's boy. But you can't be both."
I would like to modify this a bit. I have always liked to be identified as my grandfather's girl. I have his temper and his ego to some extent. I can be scornful like he was. I have his practical bent of mind. I'm good at Maths.
To Patti (grandmom), I was always her girl from day one. But, to me, I became her girl only after my grandfather died. She had always been a significant part of my life, undoubtedly, but it took me a while to realize that. By then it was too late.
I could get away with yelling when she would bombard me with her childlike questions, which seemed so irrational and pointless to a teenager returning home after a long, yet useless day in college. Or when she wouldn't let me watch my favourite episode of "How I Met Your Mother" without having described her day.
I would promise to play carom with her each time she visited us. I guess I broke them all the time and she being the soft soul that she was, never minded my forgetfulness. Mere words were enough for her. During her last days, I told her I'd play Rummy with her. I never did.
She loved Bollywood movies and slapstick comedies. I can count the number of times we watched movies together. I was lazy enough to not walk to the nearest DVD library and rent a DVD for the weekend.
Almost 7 out of 10 times, I preferred spending time with my grandfather over her. Was that wrong? I don't know. I probably ran out of patience explaining stuff to her.
And yet she didn't mind. She swallowed my rudeness, my irritation and annoyance at her ignorance about the so-called worldly things.
Because I was her girl.
For all those times I did not stand up for her, she stood up for me.
I probably didn't realize or I shrugged her away, hence that, was the one time I majorly let her down I suppose.
So if I do get one more day with Patti, I would spend it by playing carom, watching stupid movies, eating ice-creams, gossiping about our old neighbours, and answering her every question in detail. I would like to have that one meaningful conversation with her, that we should have had ages ago, but never did.
For one more day. That's all.
