"But it's not just all about you,is it? We're not just here for us,we're here for others.
We've got to help each other struggle through till we die,and then we're done".
The above lines are from a British web series AFTER LIFE, where the lead character Tony is struggling to come to terms with his wife Lisa's death. Tony is depressed,angry and is in deep pain.He is hopeless and struggles with the unpopular idea of life and death cycle. Tony craves and longs for the company of his dead wife. As I watched the show some months back, I couldn't really empathize with the character Tony and his overshadowed emotional landscape in accepting death and the deep agony that follows the death of loved one UNTIL two weeks back, as my grandmother passed away after short illness in the midst of a harrowing pandemic.
And from nowhere I realize that, all my life I have processed death of both known and unknown as mere news,or may be in my ever widening world of imagination,I have never had thoughts and images of myself anticipating the death of loved one.Strangely, who would? Not that on any normal day one wakes up and declares oneself prepared to deal with loss of life. I like many lived as though Death and Dead were sad words in somebody else's story.
But then,the image,touch and love of that one person, with whom I have gravitated together since I remember, is physically gone.
GOGAMMA.....
My mother often jokes that, she was happy with my brother and had no plans of having a second child until my grandmother insisted ,so my mother often pins the blame of my existence on her mother.
I remember the five year old me was excited about Friday evenings for my grandmother to come home, so I can own my weekend and be as notorious because, the plan was she would save me from my parents right at the moment I was about to get beaten. And Sunday nights were the heaviest, because she would leave next morning.
Monday mornings were filled with many hugs and kisses as she packed her green bag, and the one scene that remains so fresh in my memory is, when she dropped me at my school bus stop and there was a straight long road one had to walk and take a left to reach bus stand and I remember the multiple bye-byes we would say each other, up until she reached the end of the road,and at a corner she would stop for few seconds say a long bye and then she was gone...
I always asked her, if I was her favorite grandchild,and how much she liked me and she would tell me the story of how my mother who used to work then had to leave the nine months old me with her, and who else would be her favorite..!
Today the twenty five year old me is free willed and acknowledge all the privileges in life.I claim to speak my mind,I dream and hope for a better world and life. At times,I can lean back and look upon to my loved ones for comfort and reason.But then,it strikes me how we all are shaped by our circumstances, all the good attributes we self -claim were nurtured by people around us, who sacrifice selflessly,care and love us.
Gogamma, equally took part in my upbringing,the many nights that she put me to sleep and fed me ,the only birthday of someone she remembers is march seventeen, and how the major part of my childhood is filled with images of her. The love and warmth of a parent is different to that of a grandparent, there was something special about her warmth,the little things in life, the feeling of safety and comfort,that can't be put in words..
VIRUS AND MADNESS
Even before the family could come in terms with her sudden passing away,the pandemic and deadly virus didn't spare us too.(why would it?) The Entire family had to go into 14 days quarantine right after the funeral,as one of our family members tested COVID positive.
To me, these 14 days will go down as a prolonged nightmare, I never ever want to revisit or wish for others. I was trapped into the vicious cycle of fear and grief. Mornings would be driven by the paranoia this virus had unleashed,the stories and sight of people loosing their loved ones to virus would make me anxious and hopeless.
And in the quiet of the night,I would think of how and why she died, images of her face,her wrinkled forehead,her voice and beautiful laugh would flash in my mind as I try to sleep.I would imagine being at a dire place and watching death..I would play all the conversations and her last moments before she died inside my head. Then the next day I wake up, there is a news of a landslide, a plane crash,increasing deaths, and worrying news from across the world.I had a panic attack one night for the first time,and it felt like someone reached into my chest and pulled out my heart only to learn how our body responds to our intense emotions.
As mortality becomes a daily graph to be reckoned with,the lives and deaths of others add up to collective grief.
Praying helped me get through this quarantine.Sometimes I and mother would talk about her and end up crying. My mother has been consoling me that, grandmother was old and she had to go and that is how I have to accept it and move on. But I'm unable to accept the age argument.
Every time I replay the moments from her funeral in my mind ,a mysterious grief strikes deep inside me, as if I have been broken into many pieces only to realize how much I loved her over the years.One can't quantify the pain of death based on age or the circumstances in which one die. As you can't quantify love,so is pain and suffering.
As I type this on my keyboard,the quarantine is technically over and we are doing fine health wise. Seventeen days since she left us,I have still not figured a way out from this intense pain.I feel naive and vulnerable,the nights are hard, but then I was loved,I miss her a lot she was my home. In the middle of the night, I remember the scent of her saree every time I laid down on her lap,those were the moments the world and life felt more lite and beautiful...
I still cant talk about her without tearing up,but then I have these moments of contentment,beautiful memories from past and that is how I want to remember her.. It may be too early to claim that her departure has changed me, maybe it has, I do not know,but I wish to value Life more, be kinder to people around,embrace and accept people as they are.
No one is taught to deal with grief. People are all about stories in the end. Its the language and words that you build with a person,the little tale we tell each other..
And,that is what you mourn and long for when you're losing someone you love. This language that you're not going to speak with anybody else.....
The best way to console those mourning their loved one is not asking them to let go but to hold on.......
It seemed dramatic and silly to relate these pain to a popular Tamil song that describes the love and longing for grand daughter from a grandmother. But then these words spoke to me like no other.....
காலம் கரைந்தாலும் கோலம் சிதைந்தாலும் பாசம் வெளுக்காது மானே..
நீரில் குளித்தாலும் நெருப்பில் எரித்தாலும் தங்கம் கருக்காது தாயே..
உன் முகம் பார்க்கிறேன் அதில் என் முகம் பார்க்கிறேன்..
இந்த பொன் மானை பார்த்துக் கொண்டே சென்று நான் சேர வேண்டும்..
மீண்டும் ஜென்மங்கள் மாறும்போதும் நான் உன் மகளாக வேண்டும்....