Strange Relation

It seems highly ironical that I should be writing this just hours after my last post. Didn't I just satirize and poke fun at my relatives and say how I couldn't stand them? Well, do you know what it's like when they go away forever? My paternal grandfather just passed away. He was 95. He was senile and almost fully blind. He suffered a lot these past few years. He was strong, he fought till the end.
Remember that pull I talked about? Well, its at work right now and I can't even see the keyboard properly because I'm crying. Its strange. I didn't even cry this much when my paternal grandmother died. We got the news at around 4 in the morning and when my mother woke me up to give me the news, I just stared impassively at her and went back to sleep. I was never close to her. I only cried a little bit when I saw her body. They said that during her last hours, all she could say was my name. Maybe she was remembering how partial and biased she was towards Kinkini. I remember when we were kids, we both made something and went upto her to show it and asked whose was better. First the diplomatic answer "Both" but when pressed, she pointed towards Kinkini.
When my maternal grandfather died, I was only 9 years old. It was the first time I had ever come to terms with a death. I didn't know how to go about it. I had never seen my mother act the way she did when she saw his body. For the next few days, all I did were burst into tears and hide myself under the blanket. And then, I asked my grandmother if they were going to have biryani at the funeral service. I would play with the ribbons which came with the sweet boxes and get into fights with other kids for it. The house was always full of people and they would come up to me and say something like, "Where's your grandpa gone?" like I was some little kid
Coming back to my paternal grandfather, I remember how he would teach me English grammar during the summer holidays, he would talk about his days as newspaper editor at Anand Bazar Patrika. He would talk about how they would receive hourly reports of World War II. He would talk about how good my father's English was and how he failed his Biology exams (giggle). Even though I knew about his condition, it pains me to think how I never prayed for him and I know I can't do anything about it now.
He gave me a quotation long ago and in some eerie way, it seems so apt :
Tomorrow, tomorrow & tomorrow,
Creeps into petty pace.
All our yesterdays,
Have lighted fools the way
To dusty death
Out, out brief candle
Life’s but a waking shadow,
Which struts & frets
And is heard no more
It is an empty tale, told by an idiot,
Full of sound & fury,
Signifying nothing.