The story of our lives… and deaths

Josh was a happy-go-lucky boy who loved his grandmother very much.

He had been living with her for a year now and they were like two peas in a pod.

Josh’s parents were not around as they were on a trip to a place where Josh couldn’t go. At least that’s what grandma told him.

The last time he saw them, they were on a short road trip.

He could never recall what exactly happened that day. The only thing he remembered was him lying on grandma before falling asleep. The next thing he knew, he was lying at home, in bed.

Josh was fine though, as he had grandma to accompany him. He loved to listen to her stories, and he would ask her to tell him stories every day.

This time, Josh asked her to tell him the story of how he was born.

So she began: “Your parents weren’t very rich, but they knew they wanted to have a child.

“After a month of trying, they found out that they were pregnant with you!

“They were so happy, they just couldn’t wait for you to come out. After nine long months of waiting, you came out on July 6, 2013.

“It took them a while to pick your name. They finally settled on Jos…”

Before she could finish the story, Josh said: “Tell me the story about my first day of school.”

So, she began: “Everyone was so afraid for you to start school, especially your parents. But you were just so excited for your first day.

“When it was time for them to drop you off, they almost brought you back home. They didn’t want you to be sad because you couldn’t be in school.

“When the time came to pick you up, you were so happy to see them, you ran as fast as you could to hug them.

“The whole car ride back, you couldn’t stop talking about all the new friends. There was Ricky, Sally, George and …”

Without letting his grandmother finish her story, Josh interrupted again.

“Tell me the story about how I learned to ride a bike.”

Patiently, she started again.

“Well, your father bought you your first bike for Christmas when you were five.

“It was a red bike, you loved it very much. You immediately hopped on it and started riding, then you insisted your father take the training wheels off.

“Your father laughed and took them off. You practised every day without fail. After a couple of weeks, you started to get the hang of it.

“Of course you fell down a couple of tim …”, and again he stopped his grandmother before she could finish.

This time, he said: “Tell me the story of how we died.”

And so she began …

This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Twentytwo13.

To give the younger generation an avenue to express themselves, Twentytwo13 now has a dedicated space called Young Voices. If you are a young writer (aged between 12 and 17) and would like to have your article published on our news website, send your contribution to editor@twentytwo13.my.

All articles must be accompanied by the young writer’s full name, MyKad number, contact number, and the mobile number of the young writer’s parents/guardians for verification purposes.