There is a fan buzzing in the back ground. It gives you the sort of buzz which one gets only from an Indian fan. Mom is lying on the diwan and trying to get some sleep. She has been crying non-stop for a few days, so I let it be. Its only 2:00pm. A is in the only bedroom downstairs. He is learning maths. And me...well I am sitting by the dining table trying to figure out what the hell hit us....hit us this past two weeks.
When God gives with one had he takes with the other. He gave me back my son in June and took my father away in July. Daddy (yes even at the age of 40 I still call him that – no short cuts – no dad or pop for me) left us on Sunday 17th of July at around 3:45pm – they said it was pancreatic haemorrhage. It was sudden they claimed, like it was lucky that he dropped down dead instead of being in a coma for the rest of his life. Death is no choice and one can’t select the way one goes. Yes, my dad was lucky – he was in ICU for only a day.
First I was angry – how could He go like this? Without letting me say goodbye? Without saying something to me? Then I was angry with God – why should a perfectly healthy man of 69 die so suddenly when there were five older siblings around?
I saw Him – his body was wrapped in a white cotton-like cloth, till his chest. They had tied the lower part of his face to the upper with another piece of cloth, so that his jaw doesn’t drop down. His spectacle was still on. He looked alive to me. No they said, he is in an ice box – can’t you see? Why is he in an ice box and why are these people all around him? They said within two hours it would be time for the last rites and they needed to thaw his body. They took his body out of the ice box and lay him on the floor. People went around his body like he was some sort of God there. No he isn’t your God, he is my father. You don’t have a right over him, only I do. But nothing seemed to be coming out of my mouth. There was snot all over my face and tears streaming down.
I didn’t ask for anyone’s permission. I sat down next to him. I touched his forehead. It was cold, like how my face would feel on a cold English night. I kissed his forehead, stroked the sides of his cheeks, he wasn’t getting up. Why Daddy, why don’t you wake up? When I was very very small, I remember touching your ear lobe and you slapped me hard. Mummy later told me that your ear lobes were your most sensitive parts and you hated anyone touching it. So I reached out and touched your right lobe with my hand. I was scared. I expected you to slap me again. I would have been happy. But you didn’t and I could feel hot streams of tears welling up yet again. I couldn’t breathe; the pain was just too much. I put my arms around you and hugged you. I called out to you. But you still lay there. Someone came to me and said – Chinty you have to be strong, if you cry like this what will happen to your Mummy.
When God gives with one had he takes with the other. He gave me back my son in June and took my father away in July. Daddy (yes even at the age of 40 I still call him that – no short cuts – no dad or pop for me) left us on Sunday 17th of July at around 3:45pm – they said it was pancreatic haemorrhage. It was sudden they claimed, like it was lucky that he dropped down dead instead of being in a coma for the rest of his life. Death is no choice and one can’t select the way one goes. Yes, my dad was lucky – he was in ICU for only a day.
First I was angry – how could He go like this? Without letting me say goodbye? Without saying something to me? Then I was angry with God – why should a perfectly healthy man of 69 die so suddenly when there were five older siblings around?
I saw Him – his body was wrapped in a white cotton-like cloth, till his chest. They had tied the lower part of his face to the upper with another piece of cloth, so that his jaw doesn’t drop down. His spectacle was still on. He looked alive to me. No they said, he is in an ice box – can’t you see? Why is he in an ice box and why are these people all around him? They said within two hours it would be time for the last rites and they needed to thaw his body. They took his body out of the ice box and lay him on the floor. People went around his body like he was some sort of God there. No he isn’t your God, he is my father. You don’t have a right over him, only I do. But nothing seemed to be coming out of my mouth. There was snot all over my face and tears streaming down.
I didn’t ask for anyone’s permission. I sat down next to him. I touched his forehead. It was cold, like how my face would feel on a cold English night. I kissed his forehead, stroked the sides of his cheeks, he wasn’t getting up. Why Daddy, why don’t you wake up? When I was very very small, I remember touching your ear lobe and you slapped me hard. Mummy later told me that your ear lobes were your most sensitive parts and you hated anyone touching it. So I reached out and touched your right lobe with my hand. I was scared. I expected you to slap me again. I would have been happy. But you didn’t and I could feel hot streams of tears welling up yet again. I couldn’t breathe; the pain was just too much. I put my arms around you and hugged you. I called out to you. But you still lay there. Someone came to me and said – Chinty you have to be strong, if you cry like this what will happen to your Mummy.
Yes mummy, I had forgotten about her. What are you supposed to do in this situation – watch the dead or cater to the grieving? Mummy is still in her bed, cursing her luck, wondering what to do with her life without her companion of forty one years. I go to the bedroom and sit by the bed, close to her and I hug her too – really tight this time. We cry together knowing deep inside that our tears are not going to bring him back. I long to be with her and comfort her, but I can’t. I need to be with my daddy, I have just one more hour with him and then they will take him away; away from me forever.
I am back with my Daddy in the living room. These people are still around him. Why can’t they just leave me alone with my Daddy? I need to say my goodbyes.......
5 comments:
So sorry to read this. Please accept my condolences
Hugs. I'm sorry.
So very sorry to hear about this. Take care.
Very, very sorry to hear this. Can't even begin to imagine how painful it must be. Heartfelt condolences
Am so sorry to hear of your loss.
Hugs,
Post a Comment