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 89^th with us on the 24^th of November, and it’s just 23 days since then, being the 17^th of December. My father, papa to us, was brought here on the 14^th. 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 16^th 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 20^th 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.