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The End
I was three when I got my pet puppy, Koochie. As I grew older, so did he. When I turned seven, my dad got me another dog so that Koochie wouldn’t be alone.Priyata Bhatta
I was three when I got my pet puppy, Koochie. As I grew older, so did he. When I turned seven, my dad got me another dog so that Koochie wouldn’t be alone. When I turned 11, Koochie became old and very sick, and eventually, he died. I was very upset and thought I would never recover, but in a month or two, I did.
When I turned 13, I fell in love for the first time and when I turned 14, I got my heart broken. I thought that it was the end of everything. But it wasn’t. As time went by, I got better. When I turned 15, I came to realise that I didn’t have any close friends. I often felt lonely and miserable, and thought I’d feel that way for the rest of my life. But I didn’t.
When I turned 18, the college of my dreams rejected me. I cried for hours and didn’t eat properly for days. I felt like my four years of hard work in high school were a total waste. But they weren’t.
When I turned 19, I was homesick but I couldn’t go home. I thought I’d be homesick throughout my college life. But I wasn’t. When I turned 20, I met a guy. He was so perfect that it felt like he was “the one”. But he wasn’t. When I turned 22, I got my heart broken again and it took me more than a year to recover.
When I turned 24, I found a job that paid well. That same year, I met a gentleman, and two years later, married him. When I turned 27, my grandfather died. I was miserable. I couldn’t get over the fact that somebody so close to me had left. But soon, I did. When I turned 30, I struggled to finish my PhD. I thought I would never be able to complete it, but I did. Two years later, I gave birth to my first child. A beautiful boy. And after another two years, I gave birth to a baby girl. A year later, I had a miscarriage. I cried and I cried and I thought even time couldn’t heal me. But, it did.
When my first born turned seven, he got hit by a bus. I blamed myself for everything. I didn’t sleep for two weeks. This time I didn’t just feel like it was the end, but I really believed that it was. But, it wasn’t. Gradually, he got better and so did I.
When I turned 40, I felt really old. My jawline wasn’t as fine as it used to be, and when I smiled, my wrinkles were clearer than my dimples. When I turned 45, my company shut down and I was jobless. I was so sad that I didn’t think I’d ever work again. But I did. When I turned 50, my husband gave me a surprise birthday gift-he took me bungy-jumping. Being an acrophobiac, I was very scared and upset. I thought I wouldn’t survive it and there was no way I was doing it. But I did it and I did survive. And soon after that, the word “acrophobia” disappeared from my vocabulary.
That same year, it was time for my son to go off to college. I wasn’t ready to let him go, but I did. Two years later, so did my daughter. When I turned 56, my father died. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t work, I couldn’t think straight. It was so hard to move on. I thought I never would. The same year, my mother died as well. The entire year was a torture. I was depressed for two whole years and it seemed like I would stay this way for the rest of my life. But I didn’t.
When I turned 62, I became a grandmother. And, in the next five years, I had four more grandchildren. When I turned 69, my husband had to undergo an open-heart surgery. I was so terrified, I cried myself to sleep for an entire week. But he survived just fine, and so did I. After four years, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. When the doctors told me what they had found, I cried and I cried. I was 73 but I was not ready to meet the god of death. I didn’t think I’d survive because cancer is scary. But, I did.
When I turned 80, my first grandchild graduated from high school. As time passed, I felt so old every day. When I turned 82, my cancer was back and the doctors said that this time the chances of surviving it were very little. But somehow, I did. Three years later, my husband died of a heart attack. I had reached a point in life where there was nothing to live for. The love of my life had left. “Why should I not leave too?” I kept wondering. I thought it was time to leave this beautiful world. But it wasn’t. As time went by, my broken heart healed. My knees got weaker but my heart only stronger. When I turned 86, my cancer was back again. And this time, the doctors said I just had a month. But here I am, two months later, still fighting like a warrior.
When I look back at life, the first things that come to my mind are the happy times. The time Koochie chased a tomato, thinking it was a red ball. The time my mother bought me the prettiest dress made of satin and velvet, embellished with red and white jewels. The time my best friend got me a pencil that had my name on it. The time I got my high school diploma. The time I cried in a corner because the book I was reading was just so good. The time I met my husband for the very first time. The time my father held my first born and shed tears of joy. The time my baby girl danced because she saw all seven colors in the rainbow. The time I stopped feeling scared of heights.
There were so many moments in my life when I felt I couldn’t move on and that it was the end. But no matter how hard things were, I didn’t give up. Even now, while I lie here in my death bed, and I may die soon, it still won’t be the end. Because endings are supposed to be sad and miserable but right now, I am happy.
Bhatta is a Grade 11 student at NIST International School