Near my town is a place called 'thanneer pandhal' which literally translates to 'water shed'. I always thought it was weird to name a residential area 'Water Shed'. I even thought it was the weirdestly named place to live in... till I saw where Bryan Allain- yeah, the Bryan Allain- lived.
He lives in Intercourse, Pennsylvania.
Please tell me i am not the only pervert on this planet.
I am the kind of person who wouldn't cry at funerals. Or so I thought till grandpa died. Today is the tenth day without thatha at home. The house seems smaller without him. I miss his jokes, his songs and lots of other things. And I think I will miss them forever.
It's not like the 'man, will miss all this' that you tell yourself standing in the college bathroom on your last day there. You wouldn't really miss it. Even if you did, you can always take a couple of days off of work, go visit your alma mater and use that toilet. But I suppose, when you miss a dead grandpa, you really miss him.You will miss his jokes, his songs and lots of other things. And I think you will miss them forever.
Guess he is up there in Heaven now... probably reading this blog post along with St. Paul or perhaps Job. Or maybe even Solomon, if he made it to heaven that is.
So, well, there's only one thing I can say sitting here in your room, thatha-
R.I.P... Miss you.
I was lying awake on my bed at 6:40 this morning. For a few days now, I have been trying to get up early (6:20 is valid early) so I can pray and read the Bible for atleast sometime. This morning the bed was a little too tempting and I couldn't bring myself to flex my muscles and get out from under the cozy blanket.
I decided I would pray lying on my back and whispered toward Heaven above : I am giving up my sleep for You, Father God. Speak to me.
I think I heard some voice not in my ear but somewhere inside the head, a gentle yet strong voice : I gave my son for you. Speak to me.
I got up out of bed.
That was quite a message for the morning. For many mornings of a lifetime, i guess.