The Eternal Traveler. The Day I Lost Someone Very Close to Me | by Ahmed Jahin | Jul, 2025

The Day I Lost Someone Very Close to Me

At that time, four people from my family were getting treatment for COVID-19 in a hospital in Dhaka. Among them, my grandmother and mother were seriously ill. We were very worried. However, they slowly started to improve. During that time, I was living alone at home.

My grandfather’s house was only five minutes away from mine. He and my grandmother lived there alone. Their other children lived in different towns and cities. Only our family lived nearby and looked after them. But since everyone was in Dhaka for treatment, no one was left there to take care of them.

My grandparents were feeling unwell too. One evening, I visited their house and bought them medicine and other necessary items. I told my grandfather that he had to take care of himself now because no one else was there. Since I was alone at home, I tried to take care of both houses. I used to call my mother, uncle, and aunt every day to update them about my grandparents.

My grandfather was a kind and educated man. He believed in religion but also had a modern way of thinking. He taught my mother how to sing when she was little. He gave good advice. Even now, my mom would call him when she needed guidance. He was a little stubborn and proud. He always did what he believed was right. Though he was getting old and sometimes strict, he still had a kind heart. My mom loved him deeply. Whenever she cooked something special, she would send it to him or invite him to our house. He was always there during our happy and sad moments. He wasn’t just a grandparent — he felt like a big tree that gave us shade and protection.

That morning, around 11:25 AM, I was alone at home scrolling through my phone. Suddenly, I got a call from my grandfather.

— “Dear, I checked my oxygen level. It’s showing 74.”

— “74? That’s very low! Can you check it again?”

— “It’s already on my finger. Since morning, it’s below 80.”

I was scared. But I tried to stay calm.

— “Don’t worry. I’m coming right now.”

He said softly, “Please come fast.”

I locked my house and rushed over. Before going, I told my mom and others. When I got there, some neighbors and friends were already with him. He was lying down with an oxygen mask. When he saw me, he looked a bit better.

— “You’re here? They gave me oxygen, and now they want to take me to Dhaka.”

— “Yes, Nana, you need to go to Dhaka.”

— “No, I won’t go.”

— “Please go. Everyone is getting better there. You’ll be fine too.”

— “No, if I recover, I’ll do it from here.”

He was being stubborn. I called my uncle and asked him to gently convince Grandpa. My dad had already arranged an ambulance. I had to leave because my own house was empty. My uncle’s friends said they would take care of everything.

That evening, around 7 PM, my grandfather finally agreed to go to Dhaka. I was home, alone in the quiet town. I felt very upset. I called my mom, crying.

— “Why did you wait so long? His condition got worse!”

— “If anything happens to him, it’s your fault!”

They tried to calm me down.

My grandfather reached Dhaka and was taken straight to the ICU. He was very sick. After two days, the doctors said he was a little better. We felt hopeful.

The day started normally. The sun rose, the newspaper came, and birds were singing. I was drinking coffee and reading the paper. Then my brother called.

— “Grandpa’s condition got worse suddenly. He was okay last night, but after midnight, something happened. Pray for him.”

I was frozen.

I couldn’t think or move.

I felt empty inside.

The whole day, I kept walking around with my phone in hand, waiting for any news.

That evening, my father called.

— “Abbu, how’s Grandpa?” I asked.

There was silence. He couldn’t speak. I had never heard my father sound like that before.

Finally, he said in a broken voice:

— “Your grandfather is no more.”

That day was not like any other. The sky was full of dark clouds, and it was raining nonstop. Everything was wet. Birds were hiding under leaves. People were walking with umbrellas. I was also walking in the rain toward my grandfather’s house.

In front of the house, there was a van. On it, a sign read:

“Dead Body Carrier.”

It broke my heart.

Even a few days ago, he was a person with a name, with love, with memories. Now they call him “a dead body.” If I could, I would name that van: “The Eternal Traveler.”

Grandpa was lying there. He looked peaceful, as if someone were sleeping. That was the first time I lost someone forever — someone I could never talk to again, never see again. That day, I realized that everything in life comes to an end one day. And his time now has just ended.

And the rain kept falling.