Just a little more time....
Today is
the third day my father is in the ICU. This probably the end of a long selfless
journey, spanning 90 years. He celebrated his 89th with us on the 24th
of November, and it’s just 23 days since then, being the 17th of December.
My father, papa to us, was brought here on the 14th. As I sit here
and type, flashes of life past float through my brain. Memory, sometimes, is not a
great thing.
For the last three days I have
been praying to the almighty for a little more time with him. Just a little
more time!
I don’t know if I will get it.
Why do I want more time? He has
lived his life well. A full, wonderful life. Right up till the 13th evening. I
want it for many reasons. To understand those reasons one needs to know my re-born
relationship with my father.
Typically, children move away
from parents once they are married and with families. I did too. And then, for
practical reasons, I had to move my parents from Lucknow to NOIDA (where I live)
to be able to look after them. So they did that and moved into a flat in the
adjacent building. Life went on, with it’s ups and downs. Till after 8 years, on
the 16th of January, 2014, when my mother passed away. You have
already read her story in the foregoing pages, so I will not dwell on that.
Needless to say, and as the readers will know, she and my father were totally
in love, like forever. Papa stayed on in
the same flat and I oscillated between my home and theirs and slept there for a
few months, giving him time to grieve and get over her in the same environment.
He was then 88. He kept talking about our hometown, Lucknow, and though I tried
my best to make a similar environment at home, it didn’t click with him. By this
time we had become more like pals, than father and son. So I decided to take
him to Lucknow for a visit. My close friends arranged our stay, though they did
not realize how critical this visit was for his mental satisfaction. I am
eternally grateful for their love and support.
We drove down. Because he loves
driving or at least being driven. Just me and him and an attendant who had been
with him since 15 years. It was a lovely trip. We saw our parental house (no
longer ours) met all the neighbors, his old pals and in short breathed the
Lucknow air till we were satisfied. We then came back. Though tired, he took
the trip quite well. Slowly thereafter he developed dementia, losing memories.
Maybe a blessing in disguise since his grief for my mother was being forgotten.
As time progressed his dementia
grew and slowly memories decreased. Though active and able to do basic things
he needed to be watched over all day. And so, my status moved from son to care
taker to baby sitter. The last 12 months were spent in my trying to understand
his communication, which was endless and trying to do what he wished. We spent
the days together, either at home or
giving him his outings or drives. Hilary would take him down for a walk, or to
the mall for a coffee or an ice cream. I would take him out shopping or the
bank at times. Our days were full of papa.
In the few months, he was able to
do everything he liked. He lived a full selfless life. Never had any major
illness or sickness.
He didn’t make it. On the 20th
of December, 2015, he passed away peacefully. An era had ended.
So, why did I want more time? To
be able to do and say things I felt with him but didn’t, make up for our
arguments, learn his values, the list is long. So, why do I want more time? To
be able to do and say things I felt with him but didn’t, make up for our
arguments, learn his values, the list is long.
During the 6 days he was in
hospital, I was able to say to him the things I had not said. I was able to
promise him things he would have liked to see me do. Though I could not reverse
time, in those six days, as I recalled my whole life with him, I was able to
understand the legacy he was leaving for me. The legacy of patience, of
understanding, of love, of sacrifice, of spirituality, of living for others and
of servitude. Everything that I had
learnt from him and forgotten over the years. Even in his dying he was living for me. For
us. For our family. He waited those six days for me to understand and accept
this new reality. He waited till my brother from Australia was able to reach
and see him, something my brother was desperate to do. I am not sharing this
for people to praise my father or praise our family or anyone else who served
him. So please do not even respond. I am
sharing this so that we all realize that everyone is not so lucky to get that
little more time. So let’s learn not to waste it.
Do things which our heart says
are right. Spend all the time we can with our loved ones. Help those who need help.
Guide those who need direction. If we have a parent, love them and value them.
Give them time. Do not grudge what can be done or said, however inconvenient. Otherwise,
like me, one will be desperate to have just a little more time.